On The Other Side
by elleisforlovee
Summary: A Missing Moments FF detailing everything from the very beginning, on through S3; finally giving these two the love story they deserve. *S3 SPOILERS/NOW HAPPILY AU*
1. Keep Breathing

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. If I did, Sybil would be alive and JBF and Allen Leech would be dating (am I the only one that wants this? Dear god they would be perfect together...).

**A/N:** I know that there are many "Missing Moments" fanfiction pieces out there but this is mine. Downton is such a big part of my life but I think I speak for a good part of the fandom when I say that the death of Sybil caused me to really reexamine the writing. This is my version of what should have happened, beginning with Season Two but eventually tackling many moments I wish I could have seen from Season One (via flashback) and then of course continuing on up through Season Three. Each chapter will essentially be a one shot but can also be read with the others as a continuing story. Sybil will not die in this story. Why? Because it makes absolutely no sense for that to happen. What I've written about are things that I believed could have happened and my shipper heart craves to see finally put into motion. Sybil and Branson deserve a much larger story than the one they were given and if only for my own sanity, I hope to finally give it to them.

**Timeline:** Between Episode 1x06 and Episode 1x07.

**Song:** _Keep Breathing_ - Ingrid Michaelson

* * *

She had options, London had taught her that much. Options that were handed to her rather simply in the form of her parents nudging her toward Dukes and Barons asking her to dance. The boys she met, men really, were tall and handsome, with their slicked back hair and their dashing smiles. They walked a certain way and talked about only the most pleasant of things like their current work and how their mothers were so happy to hear that they had been invited to Lady Sybil's cotillion.

Of course they smiled when she brought up politics, confused and slightly put off by someone of her age, much less a lady, discussing how she had participated not only in local fundraisers but also that she had attended a counting only a few weeks back. When she asked them of their opinion, they sipped at their drinks and mumbled a few words about not being all that involved. They were never involved, at least not in the way that she wanted them to be. What a bore it would be, she thought, to marry a boy not yet made a man by the world he was so astringently kept from.

Sybil remembered thinking that night, with her black pumps scraping along the hardwood floor as she waited for these same men to ask her to dance and then return her to the very spot next to her mother and father, how flattered she was. There was no other word for it. No man, gentleman or otherwise, could take her away from this place in the way that she wanted. She wished to be like Joan of Arc, the girl whose story she had read on the train over. She had freedom, and excitement, and not once was she ever forced into a debutante season with England's finest. Of course that story ended in her tragic death at the hand of Sybil's own government, but she imagined that if Joan had escaped she would have found a man, a true knight in shining armor, to stand next to her and fight instead of protecting her from things she was sure she knew just as well as he.

But these men were nice, really and she was grateful to her parents for throwing such a gathering. Any girl would have loved the frocks and the pearls and the heels. Any girl would have wished for more even, if she was daring. And Sybil did indeed want more, but she wished for that of a different variety. As she sipped aimlessly at the wine Mary had handed her way, her mind wandered back to that morning, how she had insisted that her mother let her walk into town alone to pick up her dress for that evening. Cora, in the sweetest of tones, smiled at her daughter and told her that a lady was not to be traipsing about London by herself, especially on the day of her coming-out. Sybil sunk back into her chair, crossing her arms over her chest to prove to her mother that until tonight she was perfectly fine with her lack of a ladies disposition and childlike behavior.

When Aunt Rosamund's driver picked her up, she smiled as the elderly gentleman helped her into the back of the Rolls Royce. The interior leather of this car was different than what she was used to and as she watched the road ahead she also noticed the driver, with his polite smile slowly become part of the car. He said nothing, but instead drove the vehicle just as he was instructed. When they arrived outside the dress shop, he helped her down onto the dirty pavement, waiting as she looked around at the busy streets of London before allowing himself to speak. "I will wait here for you, Lady Sybil."

She smiled, quickly releasing his hand as she continued to look around. The town was filled with ladies much like herself, but also ones of the more common variety. Sybil even took a moment to admire a girl walking by in pants similar to the ones she had showed off to her family a few weeks before. Only these pants were of a different material, a tweed maybe, and they matched the cap the girl wore atop her head. Without thinking, Sybil touched a gloved hand to the brim of her own hat, with it's silk lining and lavender bow on the crown. The girl ahead was beautiful and so sure of herself in a way that Sybil hoped she would someday become. Until then, she was plain-faced, accepting of her plain-life and the territory it encompassed.

"Actually, that won't be necessary," she whispered, still watching the woman go. Up ahead she met a man, a man that seemed to be her age, and the two, without any parents or friends, walked into a nearby cafe.

"But my lady, your father instructed me to-"

"Of course he did."

The driver sighed, trying to think exactly how he should approach this young woman. She had said more to him than any lady he had ever driven before had and yet her lips spoke few words. The words she did impart upon him were nonsensical and contrary. Of course he knew better than to argue with a member of the family he was working for but he also knew it was his job to ensure this particular lady was brought back to her Aunt's home in a safe and timely manner. "Here then?"

Sybil looked to the driver but saw someone else completely. Like a punch to the gut she hated herself for ever going there but there she was and for a moment she wondered where he was, back at Downton maybe? Or had he been given the time off and possibly gone back to Ireland for the week? Looking back up, it was cobalt on an ashy grey as her eyes met his but suddenly she found herself wishing for blue on blue. For a moment she thought, and then she was gone, running down the street clutching her drawstring purse close to her side. Sybil allowed herself to listen, hearing the sounds of the street collide with her driver calling after her, but soon enough all she heard was the purr of cars passing and the inevitable hum of city life as she finally rounded a corner out of his sight.

Standing now in the center of the ballroom, Sybil couldn't quite remember when it was that she stopped running. As she remained still she thought that maybe she never had, or better yet, maybe she never would.

* * *

Reviews would be greatly appreciated!

x. Elle


	2. Everything Has Changed

**A/N:** Thank you for the reviews! And for those of you who favorited and followed my story, I appreciate that as well! I know Tumblr has been a bit out of hand lately. I'm not going to lie, I drank my sorrows away Saturday night after crying and feeling super depressed about the CS Promo. Trying to keep my head up though and I suggest the rest of our lovely ship do the same!

Oh! Sorry for the small error in last chapter. Not sure why the doc manager cut off a sentence halfway. I fixed it and I promise (if only to avoid my personal shame) it won't happen again!

**Timeline:** After Sybil's return from London in Episode 1x07

**Song:** _Everything Has Changed_ - Taylor Swift ft. Ed Sheeran

* * *

He saw her coming in a way that he wished he had a year ago. Then, she came out of nowhere, suddenly asking him about politics, his political life, and where he wished to someday work as if it were a typical thing for a lady to be asking a chauffeur. After all, she was in fact a lady and he just a chauffeur, both of them alike in aspiration but so far separated by class lines that such a conversation could have him without a job and she without a crystal reputation.

Her hair was in a braid now. He'd never seen it like this, not pulled back and hidden under a hat. He wasn't allowed in the house to see how she must have worn it during dinners though he imagined it rested at her neck in pins of only the best quality. Like this it was similar to what he imagined her to look like right before bed, with the hairs around her face curling from a day's worth of wear. She was beautiful, here and like this just as he assumed she was beautiful hidden away in the big house she had just traversed down from. He hated himself for thinking that no matter how true it was. It was something he had thought since he first saw her, back in her father's library, months ago.

He was pleased that he was allowed to introduce himself that day and now he was pleased as she walked slowly to the large stall doors of the garage, peeking her head around the corner as if looking for something and then stepping back when his voice rang out signaling she had found it.

"Can I help you, m'lady?"

_"I see you standing there, Carson and I told you I promise to sign out whatever I take." Sybil felt his presence behind her, a figure standing at the door with arms clasped behind his back. The figure was watching for her, waiting for her to drop a book or to rush to her side should the stool upon which she was perched falter beneath her._

_When the energy shifted as he took her in, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he swallowed a few choice words, Branson stepped forward. "It's not Carson, m'lady."_

_Sybil turned around,"Oh...oh." He was in livery but she didn't let herself notice that until after she took her eyes off the veins in his arms where his sleeves were rolled up or the way the corners of his mouth tugged upward into a tight-lipped smile. The white shirt he wore was starched and unbuttoned at the top making Sybil wonder, if only for a moment, if Carson knew that he was inside the house. Of course he didn't, she thought. A man of his class would never be allowed in the house without full livery, and his lack of a jacket and driving hat signaled that he was slightly undressed. The thought made Sybil blush and then return back to her original internal conversation; this house was her house and she didn't mind in the same way that she didn't seem to mind that for once someone other than Carson was watching her from the door._

_"I'm sorry. I can come back. I was just returning a few books," he said, signaling to the books he carried at his waist with their spines making a bed in the palm of his large hand. _

_He was polite, she thought. "Branson, right?" _

_He nodded, taking a step into the room as if her acknowledgment of his name was an invitation in. "S'right...m'lady"_

_She laughed, closing her eyes to enjoy the way this young man spoke to her. Aside from footmen it was rare for someone even close to her age to step foot into this house, much less into the confines of her father's library. She had guessed he was about twenty, though she rationed that you really never could tell with boys these days. Men, really. She was sixteen, but she felt as if she could be any age. Twelve maybe, by her parents standards, but much much older if she was given the option to choose. "Sybil."_

_"Lady Sybil. Right. I have met your two eldest sisters but-"_

_"They hide me in the basement. Something about sunlight and suitors, or something of the sort..." Branson's face grew serious, unsure of the humor, if there was any, in what she was saying. "I'm kidding, silly! Though I am sorry you had to meet Mary and Edith together..."_

_He smiled and she smiled and they both noticed how close they were standing even with Branson hovering behind Sybil's left shoulder. "They were lovely-"_

_Sybil took a step back. She was assessing the bookshelf in front of her. With her hands on her hips she looked down toward her father's desk, wondering what book she would take out this week. As she did, she spoke, paying no particular mind to the boy still standing behind her."Now don't lie."_

_"I'm not lying, m'lady."_

_"Well you're sweet but really, it's fine. My sisters are a bit too much sometimes. And to have to drive them around...sorry." It was Sybil's turn to soften, realizing that for the first time she had actually insulted someone's profession. He had a job and it was one that she was sure he was all too proud to have. Who was she to ever make him feel bad about a job he was chosen to do? After all, a part of her was jealous for the freedom he must feel driving the car she was always told was off limits to a lady. _

_"No harm, no foul."_

_She bit her lip, turning over her shoulder to take him in again. He was broader now, standing here at nearly an arms-length away. She enjoyed the way his boots made his pants widen at the knee. He looked fine, she thought, earning herself another set of blushed cheeks. "You're Irish..." The comment was bold, pushed out of her plump lips with a breath she wasn't even aware she was holding in. It was a reminder to inhale and exhale and then quickly get herself out of this stuffy library for she had places she had to be._

_"You ask a lot of questions...I mean...I'm sorry m' lady." Branson faltered, unsure of why he was allowing himself to stand in this very place and talk to this girl he had only just met. After all, she was a girl, with her high waisted skirt and pumps. He belonged back in the garage. The library was much too dangerous on a Sunday afternoon._

_"What books have you taken out? Do you mind?" She stepped toward him, forgetting her previous reminder to herself. He handed her his books all too quickly, watching as her eyes widened taking in each cover. "John Gray, John Stuart Mill and...Voltaire...who are you Branson?"_

_"I like to read," Branson offered._

_Sybil was flipping through them now, staring at the words and the way they all came together to form sentences about 'revolutionary nationalism,' 'social liberty,' and 'civil liberties'. "Are they any good?"_

_"I suppose they were and your father was very kind to let me borrow them-"_

_"I'll put these away for you, Branson." Sybil smiled, turning back toward the bookshelf. She could take a hint. This man worked for her family and she was almost positive she was making him uncomfortable. Of course he liked to read. Mrs. Hughes had been known to take a book or two out of the library. It wasn't uncommon for Sybil to talk to the people that worked in her house. This felt different. Her own awkwardness was personally accounted for and as she stepped back she fueled it into looking for where these foreign books belonged. Branson noticed this, specifically in the way she stepped up onto and then back down from the wooden stool in the corner. _

_"Really, m'lady, I wouldn't ask you to do that..." But she did and he let her. _

_"But I offered. Don't you have somewhere to be soon?" _

_"I do but-" Branson excused himself, taking one last look at the girl in the library before he did so. On the way out of the library he grabbed his jacket from the front chair upon which he had left it. In putting his livery on he too was reminded of how inappropriate the conversation he had just had was. He thought back to London and the family he worked for. Boys: they had boys there and it had been months since he had had an intelligent conversation with a woman, much less a lady in the same house he was working. _

_He was working, he reminded himself, as he slipped out through the main door unseen._

_Branson saw Lady Sybil mere minutes later being the last of her family to climb into the Renault (with the help of his own hand) with her hair in a low bun resting below the brim of her hat. She was kind and witty and if he had the gall to say it, as interesting to look at as she was to listen to. She was right; her sisters were a bore but not too far removed from what Branson was expecting. It was she, Lady Sybil that caught him by surprise, arguing with her mother over the dressmaker they were all going to see. She confronted her mother in the very same way she had confronted him, but her mother smiled and allowed her daughter to speak on almost belittling her as she did so. Although Branson knew that he was supposed to do the same thing back in the library, he couldn't help but meet her, Sybil. With every quip and look she gave him, he met her, compromising as they stood in the library saying only half of what they were both thinking._

_She continued to surprise him a week later. As he drove Lord Grantham to a local farm, he casually asked Branson if he had begun to read the books he had borrowed. "I did m'lord. I returned them two days after I took them out..."_

_"To the library? My library, Branson?"_

_"Yes m'lord. Of course. Thank you again for-"_

_"The ledger says otherwise but I am sure it is a misunderstanding."_

_Branson let the moment die. What was he supposed to say? That he let the daughter of his employer sort and shelf his books? That he hadn't watched as she mounted the wooden stool with her elbows bent creating angles contrasting so sharply with her curved backside which drew a straight line down to the hem of her charcoal skirt? Of course. "M'lord, Lady Sybil-"_

_"I'm sure she did." Lord Grantham had said other things on that drive letting Branson know this family was not like the families he had worked for in the past. They spoke to their servants differently and involved them in a life not allowed for most of the help of England. As he'd tell Lady Sybil a day or two later, her father was a good employer. He hadn't lied either when stating that he was a decent man. He meant all of these things as all of these things were true. He wondered though, what exactly Lord Grantham thought of his youngest daughter. He had heard him and his wife speaking in the backseat about Mary's wedding prospects and even Edith's lack of, but not once did they mention Sybil. She disappeared into places like the library and he was wondering if they rather liked it that way. She wasn't rude and outspoke like her eldest sister or curt and bothered like her middle sister. Sybil was kind, Branson thought. She was also more mature than either of her sisters appeared to be. There was poise there and a quiet methodology behind her eyes that told him she was just waiting for her moment, a moment she would earn and not be given. _

_Somewhere along the road, Branson had dropped the Earl off at his destination. He took a backroad back to Downton, all the way wondering about the girl in the library who had apparently read his books and had forgotten to return them. He laughed to himself remembering the first words she had spoken to him when she thought he was someone else. He was a chauffeur and these were not his books._

"Um, no, I just..." Her words spoke retreat but she remained, even going as far to take a step into the garage so that Branson could take her in. As he did so, she looked around, wasting time admiring the wooden walls with their chipped paint instead of smiling at the chauffeur with his arms folded across his chest. He was admiring her hips now, staring still at the braid down her back. Her shirt was purple today and not the pale blue it was on the day he had taken her and her family to the train station before they departed for London.

"M'lady?" He walked toward her. His hands were in his pockets. Why were his hands always in his pockets, she wondered.

"I just wanted to say thank you."

"Thank you?"

"Well everyone is saying how I was lucky that Matthew was at that rally back in May but it was you who carried me...Matthew just told me and-"

"M'lady you were hurt and-"

Sybil cut him off but not in a way that he would have expected from a lady. She wasn't irritated or harsh, but frustrated; this was hard for her and he wondered why she even came. She owed him nothing; he was just doing his job, he reminded himself. He was doing it often: thinking things hoping that in doing so they would slowly become true. "I said thank you, didn't I?" She paused, and then continued. "I mean it. Thank you." With her hands clasped behind her back, she stepped toward him. The two of them now stood at the helm of the Renault. "I was stupid and shouldn't have gone to Ripon under false pretenses. I was lucky to have you around. Even Matthew said it."

"Well my pleasure, m'lady."

"Okay."

"Okay," he nodded, laughing slightly. Of course he only did so once the young Lady Sybil began heading for the door. He would never allow her to catch him enjoying her awkwardness. She was young, he thought. You work for her father, he continued.

"I read those books. The ones you took out. I know Papa scolded you for not returning them. I'm sorry."

Had she stopped talking? She must have. He looked up, following a line from her shoes to her lips. They were moving and yet she said nothing. He wanted to laugh again but he wouldn't dare. He would hate to push her away, not now, not ever. "He didn't scold. Don't be sorry. They're back now, I presume?" If Branson was being honest with himself, he rather enjoyed this rhythm they were falling into.

With one last smile, she had hit the door. She allowed her hands, her porcelain skin to reach out and grasp the faded wood in contrast. "I'll see you around, Branson."

* * *

Review! Let's chat! Let's bitch about Fellowes! Whatever you're feeling...

:]

x. Elle


	3. Goodnight and Go

**Timeline:** The night of the Garden Party in 1x07

**Song:** _Goodnight and Go_ - Imogen Heap

* * *

Like a little girl, she allowed her feet to dangle off the workbench in the garage. Earlier that day she had remarked to Edith about the garage being "his garage" and just as quickly as she had said it, Edith made her regret her words. "That is Papa's garage, Sybil. He just works in it," Edith commented with a laugh. Sybil did not dare join her for a laugh was an agreement, and she could never see the world her sisters had managed to. She had always been different than them, especially in how she treated the people that worked in their home. It wasn't that her family wasn't thankful for their work, because they were, it just was as if Sybil understood it better, their need and respect for it. She saw all the times Branson was tinkering with that car and if they stopped talking about world politics long enough, she'd often ask him what he was doing, how he did it, if only to watch his face light up as she half-listened to his answer.

Her skirt was pulled up, but she had checked that not too much of her leg was exposed. She couldn't imagine Branson seeing her thigh the way she had seen his forearms when she had first walked in. His hands were dirty then and he was unable to fix the sleeves on his shirt only causing Sybil to bite her lip as she jumped up on his workbench, distracting him from sleeves or car parts as he stared at the way her legs crossed over one another at the ankle. Such a young girl, but a lady, he thought. A lady in a way that Mary and Edith could never be. Branson was sure they were lovely, though he knew he'd most likely never be presented with the opportunity to find out. The girl he wanted was here, on his own workbench, reading. Of course she was reading. Her eyes fluttered across a page she seemed to be hesistant to leave. Branson watched this of course, loving her idiosyncrasies, specifically the way her nose scrunched up as she laughed at something particularly witty or daring.

"I can sit here, right?"

Branson looked up. He had only recently began to tinker with a part in the car. He was finishing when she first walked in but it would have been inappropriate for him to stand by while she read. As he tightened and loosened a bolt on the engine he glanced up, to her legs and then to the cover of her book, doing his best to see what she was reading this week. He had noticed that since the riot she had begun to read more and the books she read were of the political variety. He smiled at the thought but immediately forced himself to stop taking credit. From what he could surmise, Lord Grantham limited what she was allowed to read. For a moment Branson wondered if she had disobeyed his rules again and tiptoed out of her father's library, right past the ledger against the far wall. "I don't know, can you?"

"Edith told me this isn't your garage but it is. You work here." She paused, thinking of someone other than her sister's to talk about. She was sure Branson didn't care about them and while she enjoyed her time out here, she always felt as if maybe he was irritated by the intrusion. She knew how he felt about people like her: girls like her from families like hers. Was she a constant of the main house and the things he hated so much? God, she hoped not. "I can't be in the house anymore."

"You're welcome out here whenever you'd like."

"You live out here?" Sybil spoke quickly, as if she had a list of questions to ask him now that her company was on his own terms.

Branson nodded. "In the cottage on the other side of that wall there behind your head."

He tightened the bolt one last time and wiped his wrench on the cloth in his opposite hand. After, he shut the hood of the Renault and continued to wipe down his wrench. Sybil smiled, noticing how oil stains ceased to exist on his livery. He was careful in the way she would have never expected from a man like Branson. He said things to her that perhaps he shouldn't have and in a flash she thought back to that afternoon, the way he held her hand in his own but how it was her thumb that stroked the outside of his forefinger as she gave permission and held on.

"Is it big?"

"It's just fine for what I need, m'lady."

"Right. Of course."

She read a page of her book, and then four. Sybil looked up again, contemplating her words as she thumbed the page she had just finished. The book wasn't from her father's library. She had ordered it from her grandmother and was only too excited to be halfway through with it. The author, a suffragette from the states was discussing the "inconveniences of vanishing", the act a woman must perform to fit in as the subservient counterpart to the men in her life. Sybil wondered if she had ever performed this figurative act. She hoped not, but as she looked up and caught Branson's eyes, she promised herself that she'd be mindful of keeping it, if it ever had occurred, from happening again.

"You shouldn't have held my hand today, Branson."

Embarrassed by her eyes on his, Branson smiled at her from across the garage. "Okay, m'lady." Immediately, he walked to the tool box on the far side of the room. He placed the wrench away and closed the metal lid. He heard her and wished she would say it again, if only for Branson to confirm that her heart didn't believe even half of what her mouth was saying.

Sybil closed her book and hopped down off the workbench. Undoubtedly she had lost her page, caring nonetheless. "Please call me Sybil…"

"I don't think that's proper…" Branson's words trailed off. He couldn't possibly call her Sybil but he could tell by the way she stepped toward him that she was becoming frustrated with his constant referral to her as a lady. Her sisters were ladies and she was a young girl so lost and confused she couldn't possibly hold such a title. "And I'm sorry for holding your hand."

"That's it? You're sorry."

Branson stiffened. He didn't have time to think about the words he spoke. Before he knew it they were out, hitting the air with silent sparks of electricity.

"What do you want me to say? Do you want me to argue with you?"

"Well don't you want to? I-I just think-"

"You think what?" He cut her off. Sybil's demeanor was tense and agitated. Now as he leant against the trunk of the Renault, Branson realized he couldn't have been more comfortable.

"Did you want to hold my hand Sybil?"

"I don't know what I want!" Was she screaming? She felt as if she had. She wanted to scream, that much she knew.

Branson smiled, stepping into her. "Of course you don't. They have you so locked away in that house that you'll never know. And you'll grow up, as much as a girl like you can, and marry some man that will ensure that you never know what you want."

"You don't know me!" she spat. "Granted, I don't know you either but-"

"It's okay to get mad, Sybil. You don't always have to be so kind. God only knows the world hasn't been kind to you."

"Well hasn't it?"

Their faces were mere inches away now. If she was any other girl, he would have kissed her. If she wasn't so delicate and perfect, he would have pulled her in, placed his hand on her hip and hope that she'd reciprocate and stroke his neck as the two met in such an intimate way.

"Shouldn't I be talking about how the world hasn't been kind to you? Why are you always so quiet? You're insufferably full of yourself sometimes and then so reserved the next. You're just as damaged as I am!"

"Excuse me, but I am not damaged. You," he emphasized with a sudden raise in volume, "are damaged!"

"You take that back!"

"I will not! It's true. What do you want from this world? Do your parents even know that you're out here?"

Sybil stepped back. Suddenly her head ached. She touched a palm to it appearing much like the damsel in distress she hated to be. But she was that girl, wasn't she?

"Of course they don't! What do you think they'd say? We're not supposed to be friends, you and me."

Branson stepped in, closing the gap she had only just created.

"But we are, aren't we? We're friends."

Sybil nodded, looking up at him. He couldn't help but to stare at her pouted lips. Goddamn, they were always so red and full.

"I want to be." A beat and then: "I'm sorry for starting all of this."

"I'm not. I'm merely prepping you for your days in politics," Branson finished with a laugh.

That earned him a light swat at the shoulder. The two laughed together, Sybil covering her mouth in a way that only encouraged Branson's amusement.

"I like politics but I don't want to work in them the way you do," Sybil teased.

Branson looked over at her. A wall had dropped right before them tonight and he had no intention of ever allowing her to build it back up.

"Oh, is that what I want to do?" His brogue was particularly evident when she was mocking him, making this conversation one of her absolute favorites. Sybil made a mental note to remind herself to start banter with him more often.

Branson walked over to the workbench and jumped up on it. Quizzically, Sybil stared at him and then joined him. She did so, of course, in a manner that was much more proper. She didn't jump but instead pulled herself up the way she had an hour earlier. Yes, an hour. The clock on the wall above the barn doors had confirmed that for her.

"You do, don't you? Want to do politics, I mean."

"I want to write about politics, sure."

"You don't want to be a politician?" She hoped he hadn't given up his dream. She worried now that it was something she believed in more than he did.

"No, not particularly. I want to make a difference. I want Ireland to be a free-state. I want families to not have to worry about food and education for their children. But no, I don't want to be a politician."

"I've thought about it all day since Papa made the announcement and I'm going to try to help."

Branson looked over to her. He hadn't noticed and neither did she but he was sitting rather casually, with one of his knees bended toward his body with an arm draped lazily over it. The wall had not only crumbled but the debris had also begun to settle and maybe even disappear completely.

"Have you thought about what you want to do?"

"What do you think?" Sybil asked, clearly ignoring his question and going back to her declaration.

The author of the book she was reading advocated for women to try and live without the constant approval of the men in their lives. Fathers, then husbands, then sons. It was cyclical. But Branson was none of these things. He was just a friend, Sybil thought. A friend that perhaps she shouldn't have and wouldn't be allowed to have should her father find out, but then again in denying her father this information, perhaps she actually was following the advice of the author.

Branson answered her, but only because it was clear she cared. The fact both excited and terrified him. "I think that's very noble and I'm sure you'll do a wonderful job at…"

"Nursing," she confirmed. "I figured they'd need help and I can't possibly work for the vote now. Not with all of the fighting."

Branson sighed. She could fight, but she didn't want to and he was torn between respecting and wanting to challenge that. He decided to respect it. Really, he had no other option. He was forced to remind himself that the two of them were in the garage, her father's garage, sitting on a workbench with their hipbones touching. The proximity of their bodies and the truths they both spoke was enough to have him fired and her denounced. If she was any other girl-he stopped himself. If she was Sybil in Ireland, he thought, he would have challenged her and hoped at the very same time that her answer would likewise challenge him.

"You're brave, Sybil."

She nodded and he joined her, both of them doing their best to decide if he was talking about her chosen profession or the fact that she was still in the garage with him at nearly midnight.

A silence settled over them. Branson took it as an invitation to speak. "I'm sorry I was so contrary before."

"Don't apologize, please. I asked for it. I wanted you to argue with me. I know it's wrong but it is so nice to have someone talk to me like I'm an actual person."

"You're an actual person, Sybil. Please don't let anyone tell you otherwise. You're better than that."

"Yeah, well, I'm better than a lot of this." She jumped down, quickly and yet all too gracefully. Landing on her feet had always been one of her strong suits, even if the world had made it so incredibly difficult.

"Thank you, Branson."

He just nodded, suddenly missing her body heat as a draft wafted in from the stall doors.

She began for the door, slowly and deliberately as if waiting for the question he then asked.

"Can I walk you?"

"Friends," she whispered, shaking her head slowly, reminding herself of so many things she had chosen to forget. He was a chauffeur, she thought. He was also the first boy to have ever held her hand. Boring by the standards of some, but it lit a spark in Sybil she was sure she would miss when she departed for her training program.

She was right. It was too risky for him to walk her back, even more risky than her taking the long road back to the house in the dark alone. When she was gone, he thought about what Mrs. Hughes had said that afternoon and just how awful it had made him feel. This world was enough of a reminder of just how above him she was. He didn't need the people in it to emphasize the lines already drawn. He supposed that she was also right. Mrs. Hughes meant well, shown by the mention of both his heart and his job. Branson was sure though, that even her alliance rested with the same girl he had let walk home alone. He thought back to the Sybil he envisioned in Ireland, her hair in a braid maybe, as they walked the streets the way friends would, stopping in local cafes to discuss elections and jobs and families. He pictured her there more than he pictured her here. But she was here, and he imagined that she'd soon be gone. Not to Ireland, but London perhaps. There were plenty of military hospitals there.

* * *

As usual, reviews would be splendid! I also included my tumblr and twitter usernames on my profile for those of you who had asked for them.

x. Elle


	4. It's Beginning To Get To Me

**A/N:** Sorry this took me so long to post! I was preoccupied with coming home from college and then celebrating the Holidays and my birthday. In the meantime, I also posted a short one-shot (_Angels_) that had been stewing in the recesses of my mind for quite some time. I encourage all of you to check it out. It would be greatly appreciated.

This chapter is short. I don't know why some turn out this way as opposed to others. Where I'm at in the story these two are already in Dublin and the chapter lengths have nearly doubled. Just something to look forward to.

**Timeline:** The night after the dinner in 2x03. A bit of a re-write of the scene outside the garage in 2x04 although I'd still like to acknowledge the existence of that scene in this story...but we'll get to that later.

**Song:** _It's Beginning To Get To Me_ - Snow Patrol

* * *

"Branson! Branson! Open this door right now!" And then, as an afterthought, her voice growing gruff, "Tom!" she yelled with all the energy she could muster.

"Go home, Sybil!" She heard from within. "You're going to catch a cold and get yourself sacked!" He opened the door nonetheless, buttoning the last few buttons at the top of his shirt in the process. If he truly wanted her to go home, he wasn't doing a very good job at stating his point. If anything, his mannerisms only invited her in.

With a sudden lurch forward, Sybil shoved at his shoulder with both of her hands. He stepped back but only out of reflex. Her tiny frame was weak against his broad words that followed, however, displaced him more than she ever could. "You are a stupid man, Tom Branson!"

"That general would have deserved every bit of what he got, Sybil, and you know it!"

"I don't know anything, remember? How could you be so dimwitted? You could have been fired!" She was screaming now, she knew that much. Her voice had gone hoarse and he wondered what had prompted her to run down here this late at night.

Her eyes were pink and puffy, he noticed that much. It made him soften, practically asking for him to step forward and wipe away a tear, should it fall from the corners of her eyes.

"Don't act so upset by the prospect, m'lady-"

"DO NOT call me that!" She stammered. "Listen, before dinner I wanted to find you and apologize about your cousin. I have felt awful about it all day and I hate how we left things but then you do this and-"

"I wrote you a letter. That's how Anna knew. She found it in your laundry…"

Another smack to the shoulder, this time sending him back toward his bed. "They could have hurt you, Tom! You have these beliefs and I respect that but you need to be smart. What would have happened if they sent you away? What then?" It was then that Sybil remembered where they were: in the confines of his bedroom, where he lived away from her in a rather quaint apartment off the back of the garage. The walls were a light green and the bed and the desk made out of a deep oak. It was all so very him for a room that she imagined Pratt would have once inhabited if he didn't live in one of the farm cottages with his wife.

His room was having a calming effect on her and the way he was staring at her without saying anything was only working to counteract that. She did feel bad and she wished that he had told her about his cousin. They were friends now, or at least as close as the two of them could be during wartime. He was right, and he had said it the day he had professed his love to her in York; the wall was gone now. Regretfully they were both forced to remember that the class divide would always exist, he in livery from the waste down with a plain white cotton shirt and her still in her dress from that night's dinner. It reminded him that perhaps she was supposed to be drinking tea somewhere with the very general he had tried to embarrass.

"You should get back. They're going to look for you and I'd hate for them to find you here. You really shouldn't have come in."

"You invited me in," she reminded, pointing toward him as she headed for the door. "I'm still mad at you."

"You're always mad at me," he pointed out. "That's how we work, right? I'm honest and too forward for your liking and you're uncomfortable and fine…"

"Fine?"

"Please don't make me repeat myself, Sybil…" Branson was exhausted. This was not a fight he wanted to have. He didn't want to argue with her over things that hurt him to say. He tried, really he did, to stop himself from saying things she wasn't ready to hear. They slipped out though, forcing him to forget ever trying to stop them.

"I'm sorry I yelled at you, I just need you to be more careful. For me." She was soft too. Hell, she was always soft. Tonight was the first time Branson had seen her yell. She had been defeatist, and curious and upset but never had her emotions reached such a peak the way they had tonight. He liked this part of her though and he hated himself for thinking she was just as beautiful as she always was with tear stained cheeks, flushed lips, and frizzy hair.

"I can't promise you that…"

Sybil shook her head. "Of course not." She was at the door now. She left without saying goodbye, but not before smiling at him. He didn't smile back but she knew he wouldn't. Sybil didn't smile at Branson for that reason. To be honest, she wasn't sure why she caught herself doing it, especially lately.

She was told things would change with the war and she never doubted that. Things did change, but he didn't. He was still stubborn and willful and impeccably hard to get truly mad at. He was handsome too, something she'd only ever whisper to herself when in the fringes of her room before bed. But they were friends, just as they had settled on the night this all began. She hated the word and yet she found solace in it. It kept him close and allowed her to think that this whole thing was okay. It wasn't; she knew that much. What she didn't know was how much longer she could keep it up. It was more than lying about signing out his books or lying to her family. She was falling in love with him and lying to herself. Somehow that hurt more.

* * *

Don't hate me but am I the only one that wasn't as upset by the CS as I thought I would be? Mind you, my crying on my bedroom floor after seeing the first promo of Tom/Edna was probably good preparation for what in my mind turned out to be a pretty fair homage to the love between Sybil and Tom. I think this show has helped me through so much it's really hard for me to let it go. At this point it's a joke but I keep watching (and of course, writing FF).

Just thought I'd share.

Let me know what you thought of this chapter. I am also considering taking requests for missing moments as someone had mentioned wanting me to write something I have already left out.

x. Elle


	5. Terrible Love

**A/N:** I never received an update for the last chapter I posted so it might be advantageous to go back and make sure you've read that one before this. Just a head's up!

**Timeline:** Somewhere in 2x04 between Mary talking to Sybil before dinner and Sybil talking to Tom about an "us". This for me is an explanation of why Sybil wants to be with Mary at the hospital when Matthew gets in. It also is an indirect commentary on anyone who says Sybil didn't love Tom and she just went with him so she couldn't get out of Downton. After you read this I'm sure you'll know just what I think of those people.

**Song:** _Terrible Love_ - Birdy

* * *

"Sybil?" At the sound of her voice she turned, immediately recognizing the tone as Mary's. Her eldest sister was leaning over the bannister at the top of the stairs whispering down hoping that the acoustics of the room would alert her younger sister of the urgency in her words without waking the rest of the house. "Sybil, darling, where are you going?"

Sybil looked down suddenly feeling all too silly. Her dressing gown wasn't made of silk the way Mary's was. It was a soft cotton, pooled at her waist with a thick belt that made her appear stout and plain. Her hair was pulled back into a braid that was then tucked into itself. It was frizzing the way it always did at the end of a long work day. She thanked Anna for the work she did every night trying to tame her curls all the while praying she could have been blessed with straight hair like her sister's. "Stay right there, I'm coming down!" Sybil played with the belt at her waist. It was more than insecurity that made her wonder if she should have thrown on her pumps instead of wearing her slippers out onto the gravel. "Where are you going?"

Sybil sighed, throwing the material of her belt down against her stomach. "You know where I'm going, Mary…"

"Sybil…"

"He doesn't know I'm going, alright? I just have to talk to him tonight. He needs to know that you know. I don't want him to worry…"

Mary touched a palm to her sister's cheek. "Of course you don't."

Sybil's fists balled at her sides. "Please do not make fun of me! I'm not a child anymore! I know what I'm doing!"

"I don't know that you do, Sybil. There will be other boys…"

She was whispering but there was passion behind her words. Mary feared that if they hadn't been in the main hall her words would have been much more loud and pronounced. "I don't want a boy, Mary! I want-"

"You want Branson? You can say it now. I know you say you don't know if you like him but I think I can answer that question for you. You do like him. You like him a lot. And by god Sybil I see how big this whole mess is now. Is he pressuring you into something?"

"No! He doesn't even know I'm heading out, remember?"

"And when you arrive, he'll invite you into his cottage?"

"Oh, don't make me seem like a sloven! Maybe he will! I don't know! He's a gentleman, really..."

"Sybil, you don't even know him…"

"I'm out there all the time. I know him quite well!" Sybil was quiet but she was doing her best to prove her point. It was a weird balance she was trying to strike, between convincing her sister that there was nothing going on while also trying to protect Branson's character. He deserved better than to be talked about like this. Mary didn't know him and Sybil doubted she ever would. He was her secret and her secret to keep. She'd protect him from this world if it were up to her.

Mary rubbed at her forehead with her fingertips. A silence had settled over the two of them, leaving Sybil to shuffle from foot to foot. She wanted to run. She always wanted to run. "I am just trying to figure this all out, Sybil. This man says he is in love with you and you say you don't reciprocate those feelings-"

"I said I didn't know!" Sybil spoke, immediately covering her mouth thereafter. She may have said she didn't know but her actions now spoke differently. She did know, she knew it all too well. Now, she was defending something she had not even acknowledged. It was like guarding a room full of the unknown. "I'm sorry, Mary." A beat and then: "But I will not apologize for my relationship with him. He is so much more than you know. He's not Matthew or Carlisle or whoever else but he's more than enough for me. I just don't know if I can ever give him what he deserves."

"Sybil, darling, you speak of him the way he should speak of you."

"And he does speak of me this way. I just need time to figure this all out...please don't tell Papa." Her voice was barely audible now. It stung her throat to ask her sister to lie to her father in this way but as Mary nodded the burn subsided. "I'll go to bed but I _will_ speak to him tomorrow."

Mary touched a palm to her sister's shoulder, guiding Sybil toward the staircase. "Are you going to tell him? How you feel, I mean…"

"I don't know how I feel. And even if I did, he's not ready to hear it." Sybil inhaled sharply. "Actually, I think he may be more ready for it than I am." She breathed out. "I feel awful, Mary."

"I can't support you in this. I won't tell Papa but I cannot give you my blessing. You will be ruined, Sybil!"

"He won't ruin me. This place is ruining me, Mary. Don't you get that? Do you see how much happiness my work gives me and how I won't be able to have that once the war is over?"

"Are you reducing him to a job then?" Mary knew the answer but chose to ask the question anyway. She remembered being twenty and wanting things. Mary only wished she was as brave as Sybil to want things Downton could not offer her.

"I think I love him. Is that what you want to hear? Because I do…" Sybil bit her lip then looked up at her sister. "Maybe I always have." Tears pooled in her eyes, threatening to spill out onto her cheeks. Sybil was better than that though and as they reached the top of the stairs she composed herself and headed for her bedroom.

Once inside she finally broke down, flailing her body onto the bed like some weak child in pain. She was in pain, though not the kind she would have wished for now. This hurt far worse than a stomach ache or a charlie horse. It was a throbbing in her head and a dryness in her throat that made even crying unbearable. She had had migraines before but this was much, much worse.

It was beyond what she had experienced at the hospitals watching wives mourn their slowly dying husbands. She knew then that they had accepted what was inevitably about to happen. For Sybil, she had yet to entertain the idea of Branson being anything more than a friend. She knew that was too dangerous and would only provoke her to think other things, like how every night before bed she thought of him, laying in the same bed she had seen when she ran down to his cottage to chide him for threatening the officer. She knew then though that she was yelling at him for things far removed from the war. Her real anger that night was hidden in the thought of him losing his job.

She imagined she'd still think of him and the more she thought about that fact she confirmed that she absolutely would. She thought of him often, especially at work. She hoped she was making him proud, and if she was feeling daring, she hoped that he found her having a job rather sexy. She knew that she often thought of him, in his livery, kissing her full on the mouth. The vision didn't stop there but she blushed at the thought of anything more. She had dreams sometimes, dreams of him lying aside her in bed, smiling as she curled into his side.

Sometimes when she was at the hospital she would put herself in the positions of those widowed wives and wonder what it would be like if Tom had been drafted and sent off to war. She wondered how they would have treated him if he was a conscientious objector, and an Irish one, at that. She had a dream that they had beat him in the streets and for as much as she hated that her mind went there, she couldn't help but grant it access. It was a fear she had, of him leaving or being dragged away from her at Downton, almost as if someone had discovered them. It was also a fear she hated herself for having, because she was fully in her own power to deal with the situation and face it much like Joan of Arc had faced the King. She should tell him and part of her thought that she had. Hadn't she told him all of those nights in the garage when she'd let her book fall to her side as she asked him about Ireland and his parents and his sister's children and the way his brothers never seemed to be able to settle down. Wasn't there a subtle secret told when she asked him if he wanted to settle down and he replied with a simple, "I do, m'lady" and then they'd move on to the next topic with smiles still etched across their features. Wasn't it said a million times before in the trips to Ripon or Leeds? She was sure she had said it by now.

* * *

Thank you for reading!

x. Elle


	6. Edge of Desire

**A/N:** Again, sorry these are so short! They really do get longer. *shleps off in shame*

Also, thank you for those of you who have reviewed my story! It means the world to me to get feedback on my work especially when this story and many of the other lovely pieces I read on this site and tumblr have become my canon.

**Timeline:** 2x04 (and then 2x05). Sometime after Branson and Sybil's argument about Sybil wasting her life away at Downton ("the rest is detail" scene) but right before the Soldier's Ball when we see Branson staring lovingly at Sybil. Dear god do not even get me started on that scene. So beautifully played.

**Song:** _Edge of Desire_ - John Mayer

* * *

He liked the starched collar and the modest buttons at the top. He liked the color of it and how it was soft to the touch under a much harsher white apron. He wondered how she never got it wet or crinkled, or even bloody; how her care to patients was so in depth but the width at which she kept them emotionally was miles long.

"Can I please speak to you?" His words reminded him that he most likely should have asked for permission for far more things than he had in the past. It was a privilege and not a right to speak to her and he was convinced that if she didn't have feelings for him she would have never granted him access to her world and mind the way she did so diligently as of late.

Branson was in an alcove now, specifically the one that separated the soldier's sitting room from the main hall. People were moving all about and for a moment he wondered why he had come. He was a servant, he told himself. He was not supposed to be here, and he certainly wasn't supposed to reach out and grab her arm the way he wanted to. And now, the way he did. His hand was on her arm, his thumb stroking at the skin he was in contact with. It was harsh and gentle and it caught her completely off guard.

"Sybil!" She turned to face him, caught unaware by the boy she had grown to admire. Their faces were close as people pushed past them, edging their bodies further into the corner of the hallway. There, they went unnoticed as Tom remembered his favorite part of her nurse's uniform: the way she tied her hair back. He hated the way the other nurses wore the cloth headdress almost like a nun's habit. Sybil was younger than the rest of them and he wondered if that had influenced her decision. It made him wonder other things too, things he wouldn't dare speak aloud. He'd ask her someday though, that much he knew.

"You need to be careful, Tom! We're not in the garage! You can't just touch me like that. This is my father's house...people could see you." She was whispering now and her words were guttural. She wasn't being harsh though, and her tone made him smile, something that rubbed off onto her as he stepped further into her to whisper his next thought into her ear.

"At this point let them see. As long as you know I'm sorry."

"For what?" She was still whispering. Her hands were crossed over her chest and suddenly she wasn't a lady or a nurse but the same young woman he had fallen in love with all those years ago.

"For what I said before. I was-I was jealous, alright? It was nothing against your job...which you know I think is a fine profession." Sybil smiled, knowing that these particular words were hard for Tom to say.

She may have retorted to her sister about Tom being full of himself, but if she was being honest with herself, she rather liked the way he took charge. He was ambitious and prideful but he melted when she was around and suddenly none of that mattered. She saw what the rest of the world saw but he let her into other parts of himself as well. It wasn't that he was hiding anything, just that his most sensitive parts, the parts that made it all worth it, were reserved for intimate moments, ones he had few of outside the garage.

"Are you apologizing for the randy officer comment? Really, Tom we both said things we didn't mean..."

Now it was his turn to smile. She had called him Tom. Since the other night when the argument at hand had actually occurred, Sybil had neglected to call him Branson. Whether it was conscientious or a pure accident, he hoped it would continue, at least out of habit. "Well I need you to know I am sorry. Truly, really I am."

"It bothers you that much?"

"About the officers or upsetting you?"

Sybil looked up at him, then to a volunteer nurse who had just walked behind them with a stack of freshly folded linens in her hands. She kept her eyes trained on the nurse, watching her performs tasks that Branson was all too sure she should have been doing had he not pulled her aside. But she remained still, at his side, deep in a conversation both of them were having far too much fun with. "Well I know the officers upset you. They're all very respectable. I promise you that. And it's not them I care about, alright?"

Apparently he was staring at the nurse and had lost focus on Sybil, his Sybil, now staring up at him. Her eyes were saying things her lips couldn't and an urge shot through him, making him want to cover those same lips with his own. He lamented though, instead rubbing his hands on his pants out of frustration. It was a routine he had lately; something to do to distract his hands from their desired locations holding her own. "Right. I'm sorry."

"You said that," she whispered. Her eyes were focused on his chin now. Any higher and she'd lose her place in this home.

"I just don't like how they stare at you," he began again, suddenly not being able to let it go. It was as if letting their argument go was letting her go. Had he told her yet today how pretty she looked? The way Branson looked at it, if he didn't, someone else would because Sybil was pretty. She was also a lot of other adjectives he'd never let his mouth disclose. Not here, in her home. Or her father's home, as she had so clearly put it."And I know I have no right to feel that way but even as a friend. It's not right..."

Sybil nodded. Somehow it was almost as if she had lost her breath, like the wind had been knocked out of her by a force that remained unknown."Well thank you, as a friend, for looking out for me...is this all settled now? I really need to continue transporting everyone to the other room. Are you coming?"

She was moving now, away from the force and out of the hallway into a more well lit area. Maybe she didn't trust herself either, Branson thought with a smirk. "To the concert? I didn't know if you wanted me there."

"I always want you there." She stopped now, her hands on her hips as she eyed the room for the next patient to move. "Come. It'll be nice. Mary and Edith are singing."

He scuffed at the floor. "And you, m'lady?"

"Just supervising those randy officers you hate so much," she whispered with a wink before unlocking a nearby soldier's wheelchair, setting him in motion toward the great room. Over her shoulder, she felt Branson staring, a simple "Aye!" in contention shouted her way.

~!~

With the war coming to a very slow end, Branson was thankful these trips to and from the hospital in town would almost be over. He was also thankful he was driving around Sybil, and not the dead, though her silence that morning in the car had left much to be desired. They usually spoke about literature, or what her childhood was like. They never spoke about her family, though they sometimes discussed his. If they were lucky, and this was only lately, she asked him what Dublin was like and what he'd show her if she were to ever visit. In response he'd smile, mention something small, like his favorite pub, and then ask her if she'd like to see it someday. She always replied with a "maybe", until one day when she didn't. Then, somehow her silence meant more.

"I'm sorry I was so cold this morning."

Branson didn't turn around to look at her. He didn't need to see her face or that pout she always wore when she regretted something she had done or said. He had seen it many times before, especially lately, as his questions became more and more persistent and her own doubts of happiness at Downton became all the more clear. "You weren't."

Sybil nodded, swallowing. "I was though."

"Apology accepted, m'lady." That one earned him an eye-roll, one they both laughed off as they continued on down the road, past the Grantham Arms, past the farm cottages, and to the back of the property. Along the way he asked her where she wanted to be dropped off. She didn't respond, something Branson often heard as her asking permission to come to the garage with him. He'd never let her, not in the way they both wanted. Especially because it was harder for him than it was for her. She was far more obstinate than he could ever hope to be. She knew what she wanted but she also knew if and when to get it. If she hadn't, he had guessed they would be to Dublin and back by now.

Out of the silence came another confession: "She does love him. I mean, of course she does. How could she not?"

He thought back to the conversation they had had that morning about Lady Mary and Cousin Matthew. What he had asked her and then the words that followed. He felt bad and yet she was the one who was apologizing. Branson craved a time where they'd be able to say exactly what they were feelings about one another to one another. For a moment, he wondered if she yearned for the very same place. "I assume we're talking about Lady Mary."

"Mhm."

"It's a shame he doesn't know."

Sybil leaned forward, examining the way her fingertips filled out the gloves she had just slid on. "Oh, but he does, doesn't he?"

* * *

It was a pleasure to read this over, if I do say so myself. My mom plans on watching Season 3 of Downton tonight and somehow that's hanging over my head like a loaded cloud.

Thank God for fanfiction.

x. Elle


	7. Kiss Me Slowly

**Timeline:** Extended version of the lovely scene in 2x07.

**Song:** _Kiss Me Slowly_ - Parachute

* * *

All he could concentrate on was the closeness of their hips, the way she moved against him as she reached up and thread a hand through his hair. They were still connected at the lips and had been for quite some time. Branson wanted to pull away, if only to remind himself that it was she that had recently said: "Yes, you can kiss me. But that is all until everything is settled." He didn't stop though, and just as he was over the thought, Sybil was nibbling at his bottom lip, an action that was only mollified as she slipped her tongue into his mouth, practically inviting him to do the same. He obliged, not needing much coaxing.

With her hand stroking the back of his neck still, Sybil allowed her other hand to drop down from his bent elbow to his back. Deliberately, she pulled the white starched material out of the bottom of his trousers.

"Sybil, we have to stop-"

"One more," she whispered, taking his lips against hers without thinking. Suddenly it seemed as if they had been doing this forever and just as quickly as she thought it, she wished she hadn't. This was always a possibility, but one that was denied because she was afraid. She was still afraid but it was easier now with him gripping her waist and pulling her close. If she was being honest with herself, and today she was, she wanted to sneak into his cottage. She didn't know what would happen, all of this was so new and exciting, but she imagined he'd continue to hold her the way he was. It was as if she had told him to never let her go and without thinking, he promised. Part of her understood that this promise was made years ago, a much larger part of the promise he made to himself that night all those years ago at the rally. "You taste good."

"Sybil…" It was his turn to mumble her name against her lips. She had done so only after they had begun to kiss, clearly feeling the need to remind herself that this was real and she was here, with him. They couldn't separate, not yet. This felt too good, too right. "Syb-"

She nipped at his lips. "Say it again?"

He laughed into her neck, dropping a kiss to her collarbone. "Your name? I'll say it a million times if it means you staying out here with me tonight." Sybil's face got serious and Tom stopped, realizing what he said. "No, just with me, just like this. I'm sorry-"

"Don't apologize. I was only thinking if I could manage it," she quipped gently. Her palm found the smooth skin of his cheek and she felt him soften against her hand. He closed his eyes, wanting to rest like this forever. Could she have really managed to spend the night out here with him? "I don't know if I can…" She laughed now, moving so that they were both standing much in the way they were before this mess began.

With hands awkwardly at their sides, he stared at her. Her hair was mussed and her dress was wrinkled from the pressure of his hands running up and down her back. The gloves she had on her hands had been discarded on the hood of the Renault. He watched now as she picked them up and headed for the door.

Sybil turned to him, this boy she could now admit she was so in love with. "What if I just don't go back?" A sinister smirk played its way across her lips, causing Tom to wonder where this girl had been all along. She was a bird out of her cage, never to fly back in.

"I think your parents would be very upset."

Sybil stepped toward him. "And you, Mr. Branson?"

"I'd hope you didn't regret it but I'd secretly know you would." He was at her side again, feeling the pull of her body into his as soon as he stepped in stride with her. "Can I walk you back?"

She remembered, all those years ago how he had asked her the same thing. Here they were, in the exact same place and yet so far removed from who they were then. Or perhaps they were the same people, people who had finally allowed themselves to say these things they had felt all along. "I would like that very much," she paused, biting her lip. "But you have to promise you'll get back here without being seen."

Branson nodded, kissing her lips, sending them both into another fit that ended with her cheeks painted in a natural rouge as his hands itched in restraint. "Come to me tomorrow during dinner and we'll leave?"

Sybil nodded, suddenly so sure of where she was and where they were going. "I'll tell them I'm sick and head down immediately. God, I hope I can wait until then…"

Tom smirked. "I think you can manage."

"You think?," she teased back, immediately sending them both into a fit of smiles, their lips curving to return to their previous position pressed against one another. It settled down and she spoke, not wanting to break the silence in which they were saying so many things they had always wanted to. "Walk me, Tom."

They headed off toward the house, their footsteps pressed ever so lightly against the gravel below. Downton was illuminated in a way that seemed to invite and calm them. Tom wished he could do this all properly; walk to the door, kiss her cheek or maybe even her hand, and then send her off upstairs as he waited behind only to picture how she got in safely. Suddenly, he was sixteen again, taking a girl on a date he had waited months for. But he wasn't sixteen, and neither was she. Those days were long gone and Sybil was far more than any girl he had ever dated back in Dublin. Dropping her a few feet away from the door would have to do, he reminded himself, all the while agreeing she deserved much more.

"You're shaking," Sybil whispered. Desperately, she wanted to grab his hands, but even here, in shadows of the home that raised her, she knew better.

"S'alright," Tom mumbled.

"Are you nervous?" She asked. He nodded. "Don't be nervous. I'll be there."

"I'm asking you for a lot," he reminded. "It hadn't hit me until just now. I don't want you to regret any of this-"

She cut him off, a gloved hand pressed ever so gingerly to his cheek. Sybil allowed her hand to linger, hoping, if only for a second, that they would be found out. Somehow an action that was once so innocent had morphed into an intimate caress that sent her heart soaring. "I'll be there...I promise you. I've had my time to think about this...it's our time now."

"God, you're beautiful."

Sybil blushed, looking down. "I better go."

He only nodded, watching her go. She stopped at the door, turning back to him once more before disappearing inside. She didn't smile or wave. Sybil just walked away, knowing that to acknowledge his eyes upon her would be to run back to him and allow him one last kiss.

There were things left unsaid and as Sybil fell asleep that night she dreamed of Dublin. Based on what Tom had said it was a lovely place and she couldn't wait to arrive. She wasn't Irish and deep in the recesses of her mind she had to remind herself that it was very possible that she really would not be accepted. Still, Sybil imagined a happier version of herself there. Any place with Tom was better. It had to be. If meetings in the garage and small-talk on the way into town made her feel loved, she couldn't imagine the confidence she'd feel when he was finally able to call her his own.

"Mr. Branson?"

Tom's breathing stilled at the sound of Bates standing behind him. He was rubbing at the back of his neck now, a habit he had picked up during his teenage years. He was caught doing many things he was sure his mother didn't appreciate then but now, nearly ten years later, he felt that same age again. With it, he hoped for the innocence, but knew that deep down none of this could be explained away. "Bates, hello…"

"I didn't expect to see you out here sans vehicle…"

Tom looked down to the gravel. "Lady Sybil left a book and I brought it up to her and as I got here she was coming out-"

"For a book?"

"For a book."

"Right, well off you go."

"Right...goodnight, Bates." Tom hurried off down the path. He didn't want his movements to seem as rushed as they were but he needed the darkness of the night to give him space to breathe. He thought to Sybil, most likely up in her room now. He was a teenage boy when it came to her, and he was sure that if his mother saw him now she'd slap him right upside the head. But she wasn't and for that he was thankful. Even his thoughts were enough to make him blush.

~!~

Somewhere along the road she had begun to run. Her feet were no longer crunching along the tiny stones below but instead delivering crushing blows of rather loud proportions as her heels

stepped down then up in a cyclical motion. The faded white suitcase she carried in her left hand was pressed close to her body. Her other hand held her shawl close around her shoulders. It was chilly; the singular thought crossed her mind. If Sybil was being honest with herself she didn't think much since leaving Downton. She had grabbed a piece of fruit and a pastry from the kitchen and then headed off. She left through the backdoor, not wanting to alert her parents or any of the servants of her whereabouts. She had left a note, of course, a note that she hoped they wouldn't find for quite some time. All she wanted now was time. Time with Tom and their new life. Time where she was allowed to say "no" and "yes" and anything else she pleased.

At the door to the garage now, she saw that he was no longer in his livery but still wore the stuffy wool vest she had saw hung in his armoire a few days before. She wondered if he thought she'd expect him, still so prim and proper even as they were stealing his father's car to elope. Of course, she didn't. Sybil actually wondered what he'd look like in his pajamas every night before bed and then on the morning following when, fresh out of the bath, his hair wasn't slicked back but fringed and still wet.

"You came?" He breathed out, taking her in. She smiled, looking up to him as if she had just realized he was real.

With her arms around him, she touched a palm to his cheek. No longer were they separated by the satin gloves she so often wore. He was real and she was real and they were both standing in her father's garage at a little after six, ready to run away together.

"I told you I would." She kissed his lips, breathing in as she did so. She had never kissed a boy before Branson and she wondered if she was even doing this right. Of course she'd soon forget all of that in a way that a girl being kissed by a boy she loved only could.

He didn't seem to mind though. If anything, it was usually Branson who deepened the kiss, inviting more of her lips into his mouth. As he did now, he'd often nibble on her lower lip, eliciting a soft moan from her as he did so. Desperately he wanted to do more, to let his hand, resting on the small of her back, travel up and grab her cheeks. Not yet, he reminded himself as he came back down. Sparks floated between them as they pulled away, an all too apparent blush creeping across his fiance's face.

"I have doubted that you love me for the longest time but you're here and it's all so clear..."

Sybil stepped back. She smoothed the front of her skirt down needing something for her hands to do to keep from reaching out and holding him once again. Out of the silence, she spoke, but only after her suitcase was in the trunk of the Renault. "I love you." Another deep breath and then: "Is that what you want to hear?" She stepped into him again. "I'll say it a million times now. It's not worth living here in this house in these clothes with my family if I can't be honest about how I feel. I love you, Tom. I have for a very long time. It's important that you know that...I love you and I have loved you-"

She was cut off, his lips pressed against hers. Then when they detached, they were around her lips, on the bridge of her nose and then down to her chin and then to her neck where Sybil was positive if she hadn't stopped him she would have allowed him to go anywhere.

Sitting in the car now as they backed out and headed slowly down the driveway, Sybil was sitting up front thinking about all of the firsts she had encountered at Downton but how it was Tom that was the common denominator, not the castle she was leaving behind. She didn't bother to look back when they hit the gate. Instead, she snuggled closer into him, placing a kiss to his neck while he did the same to the top of her head.

* * *

I cannot thank you all enough for the lovely reviews I've been getting. The discussions I've had with some of you have made writing this completely worth it. I'm glad you're all enjoying something I originally wrote to get over my own misery.

x. Elle


	8. They Weren't There

**A/N:** I am changing the rating of this story to Mature. I have known this was going to happen since day one but did not want to exclude readers right off the bat. This particular chapter is not necessarily Mature but Sybil _is_ an engaged woman now…

**Random Thought:** Does anyone make banners and want to make me one for this story? I'm not at all cool enough or deserving of one, I just thought it would be nice…

**Timeline:** Somewhere after 2x07 and before 2x08. C'mon...are we all supposed to believe Sybil and Tom just stopped talking after their interrupted elopement? I think not. I could write pages upon pages about these two sneaking around at the Grantham Arms. Hell, if it were up to me they would have been sneaking around (like REALLY sneaking around) at Downton long before their engagement. No seriously though...might write a fanfic about that someday...

**Song:** _They Weren't There_ - Missy Higgins

* * *

It was a routine now: leave work, change into a more suitable dress, grab a hat and coat, and then head off into town. Sybil thanked herself that Tom had put in his resignation nearly a week ago, leaving the house without a chauffeur for the time being. It was easier now to explain away her constant walks in and out of town. "The end of the war has left me restless, Papa," she'd tell her father.

She was restless, though not in a way she would ever discuss with her parents. Sybil blushed, hiding her head behind her scarf as she walked toward the inn and grabbed for the door. Just the night before she had spent several stolen moments under the light of a street lamp, pressed against Tom as he nipped at her neck. She was giggling then, and the same bubbling excitement presented itself to her as she entered the establishment and let the dimly lit room wash over her.

He was in the back, the way he always was. She took off her hat only after she passed the bar. Sybil couldn't imagine what the locals would say if she, the daughter of the Earl of Grantham, was seen sneaking around a local eatery with the family's chauffeur. She didn't care, that much she was certain about. In a few days time they would all know and they could laugh and chide her as much as they pleased. What mattered then, almost as much as it mattered now, was that she was finally honest with herself and the world. She loved this man. Was she saying it enough? She needed him to believe it as much as she felt it with her heart practically beating out of her chest at just the mere sight of him.

"Hi, love." He kissed her cheek before helping her out of her coat. "You look beautiful."

They were sitting now, Sybil and Tom leaning into one another as they shared stories of their day. Sybil told him about work and how she had officially had her last day. She discussed how she would miss it, but when he tried to mollify her concerns she reminded him that she could always get a job in Dublin. "Actually, I wanted to talk to you about that…"

Sybil sipped at the tea Tom had ordered for her. She had tried his coffee last week in the garage but couldn't bring herself to actually enjoy it. It got cold far too quickly and she knew, although she'd never admit it, it would be so much better if he put cream and sugar in it. "About my job in Dublin?"

Tom shook his head, swallowing his coffee down. He placed his mug back on the table. "About my job in Dublin," he corrected. "I got a job…"

Sybil smiled, leaning in to him to kiss him full on the mouth. It was loud and sloppy and she could not have been more proud of this man she was soon to call her husband. "Tom! That's phenomenal!"

"It's an assistant editor position for a newspaper that's up and running. Independent, but they do discuss politics and things of the like…"

"Are you happy with it?"

Tom looked at her from over his coffee mug. "Sybil, I don't care what I'm doing. I care that you have a roof over your head and food on the table. You make me happy, okay? I'll find a job that I like eventually but right now there are more important things."

Sybil sipped at her tea. The cup was empty now, though she didn't want to set it down. "Are you mad?"

Tom reached out and touched a hand to hers. She allowed him to take her hand in his own, rubbing at the place where he hoped he would soon put a ring. "Love, I'm not mad." He paused. "I'm sorry...I just want you to know that we'll be okay."

Now it was Sybil's turn to hold on. She melted at the thought that the same boy that had watched her grow into the woman she was now was also a man himself. Had she watched him mature too? "Tom, I know we're going to be okay. I'm okay now, alright? And we will be...always...as long as we're together."

Tom kissed her nose. "God, you are perfect."

Sybil giggled, sitting back in her chair. She had forgotten to put her corset back on after work and she was beginning to wonder what she looked like to him now, so relaxed and at ease. "Have you looked at apartments?"

"I have, lots actually. I brought a paper, if you wanted to-" But he couldn't finish. His fiance had already grabbed for the pamphlet he placed on the table, searching its contents for the pages where he had circled possible housing options.

Sybil looked up. "Are you sure your mother doesn't mind us living with her when we first arrive? I know she wasn't too thrilled when you told her that you resigned and were returning to Dublin...with a girl nonetheless, all in the same letter."

"She doesn't know the girl is you, Syb," he reminded. "But she will, eventually. I can't make her disown me all at once." Sybil straightened, suddenly scared by Tom's words. He noticed, working quickly to correct himself. "She's not going to disown me and I swear she will love you, alright? She's just always wanted what's best for me and I know she's going to think I've ruined you or-"

"You haven't, you know...ruined me."

"Aye," Tom sat back, his elbow over the wooden back of the chair as he sipped at the last bit of coffee in his mug. He was watching her now, this girl he had supposedly not ruined. She was just as beautiful now as she was that first day in the library, maybe even more so. She walked taller and was more confident with herself. She had held a job and stood up to her family. She did all of these things while he stood by her side. Surely a man that had ruined her would have not allowed her to grow in the way that she did. These last five years, no matter how aching, were necessary, he reminded himself.

"What about this one?" Tom was brought out of his reverie as a barmaid refilled his mug. Thankfully Sybil was leant over the paper, staring intently at a listing he had not circled. "Why didn't you circle this one?" He noticed her smile at the bartender, hating her kindness even when they were supposed to be discrete.

Tom jokingly snatched the paper away from her, causing her to give him a sly look. He laughed, then roared when she stuck her tongue out at him. No, he had definitely not ruined her. "We're not living there."

"And why not?"

Tom didn't have to look up to see that her hands were most likely on her hips. "It's too far from work and it's only one bedroom."

"Are you to have me pregnant before the year is up? I think we can manage with one bedroom for now…"

"It's an open flat, Sybil…" he pointed, placing the newspaper back on the paper to show her. He was lying if he said he hadn't pictured her pregnant, big and round and so perfect. Doing so only made him realize that she was averting his gaze, picturing the same thing. They hadn't discussed it, but it was clear now that they didn't need to.

Sybil read the words he had only just spoken, waiting for them to compute. As she remained silent, Tom explained: "It means it's one giant room. That's why it's so cheap. The bedroom is only separated from the kitchen by a partition…"

"And the loo?"

Tom dropped his head back laughing. "That's a separate room."

"So it's a two room apartment. A loo and then everything else?" Tom nodded. "It's cheap. I just thought…"

"I've worked out the finances, love. We have plenty to get us comfortably through the first year. And that was before I had a job. I wasn't lying when I said I had been saving."

"Fine," Sybil huffed, if only to tease Tom. "What about this one?," she asked, pointing to another listing.

Tom looked at the paper, reading the listing she was referring to. "That's actually my favorite."

"Because it's furthest from your mother? Your chicken scratch is telling…"

Tom shook his head with a laugh. "Because it's close to work. There's also a hospital a few blocks over," he added with a raised eyebrow.

"You're so caring," she whispered, wanting to do so much more than the table separating them would allow. As she took in his features, Sybil realized how handsome he looked and how, as she had wondered about before, his hair wasn't gelled back but instead quaffed in the front creating a small fringe. "You look handsome…" Her voice trailed off. He responded in the only way he knew how to when he realized she was his and always would be: he picked up her hand and kissed her knuckles. Anything more would have been in poor taste.

"Are you sure this is the one? Do you want to see it?"

"No!" Sybil sat up straight, composing herself. She had never sounded so eager and she hoped Tom wasn't turned off. "No," she repeated. "I'm sure it's great. I just want to move in."

"After the wedding," he reminded with a sip to his coffee.

Sybil's eyes widened. "I'm to stay at your mother's until the wedding?"

"Sybil, we're Catholic. We can't-"

"Without you?"

"Well when you put it like that-"

"I don't know if I can manage that."

"You've managed it for the past five years, love…"

Sybil smiled, throwing her crumpled up napkin at him. "We'll see." She leaned back in her chair. "I'm a modern woman, Tom." Was she being suggestive? Sybil kinked her eyebrow. Dear god, his fiance, his Sybil, was being suggestive.

"Yeah, yeah," he said with a laugh, almost as if he was promising not to give it too much thought. "We will see." Soon enough he was standing, causing Sybil to stare at him in wonder. "C'mon, we've got to go."

Sybil joined him on her feet. She leaned into him, using his broad frame to hold up her body weight. She hadn't eaten yet and now she was wondering if she should have ordered a meal while they chatted. In a way that always seemed to be true, practical matters evaporated when she was with him. "Can I see your room?"

Tom smiled into her shoulder. "Syb, not today, Bates and Anna-" He couldn't finish his sentence. The people he was referring to were headed straight for the room they were in. Tom threw a couple bills down on the table, more than enough to cover their tab, before grabbing for Sybil's hand. "Follow me, okay?" They would have to go up to his room. The only other option was to leave through the main exit, something that would create a path right by where Anna and Bates were now being seated.

"Tom?"

He was silenced again by the sound of Anna calling for Sybil. His shoulders dropped; they had been caught.

"Anna!" Sybil croaked out causing Tom to laugh. It would earn him a definite jab to the ribs later, Sybil thought. "Hi Bates." Tom couldn't get over how she spoke as if he, the former chauffeur wasn't standing next to her holding her hand. He quickly dropped it as she walked to the pair on the far side of the room. Tom followed, if only to not draw more attention to their unlikely predicament.

"Lady Sybil," they both smiled.

"Lady Sybil, your..." Anna continued slowly, thinking about how to phrase her next sentence. She was there that night in Gretna Green, in the car and then in Sybil's room when Mary and Edith ensured that their baby sister was returned to Downton. The maid was now torn between remembering her duty to the household and her duty to this girl she had watched grow up into a woman that was now so clearly in love. Mary and Edith may have not wanted to see it but it was clear to Anna in the way that perhaps it could only be clear to another woman who had found the same thing. Who was she to keep Lady Sybil from such a wonderful feeling?

"I had let Tom borrow a book from father's library and he forgot to return it. I ran into him on my way home from work and we were just picking it up…"

"Right, a book…" Bates chimed in. Branson was suddenly reminded of their interaction outside the main house not even a month ago. "Why don't you head back for dinner and Mr. Branson can give me the book to bring back to Lord Grantham?"

"Oh, I couldn't possibly have you do that." Sybil's ears were burning now. It was a habit she had, for her body to react warmly when she was nervous. Tom noticed it first when she was in the garage that first night thanking him for his actions during the count. He saw it many times since then, both in the house and out. "Really Bates, it's no imposition on my part. You two enjoy your meal. I'll see you both back at the house."

"Of course, milady," was all Anna was able to mutter. She watched, just as Bates did, the two of them disappear up the stairs; the former chauffeur and the lady. Sybil turned back right before she disappeared, giving a look to the both of them. For as kind of a person as she always was, she was suddenly made cold by the one thing in the world she was kept from. If ever there was a time she used her position in society to remind others that she was intelligent and more importantly, in control, it was with Tom.

Leaving Tom's room with nothing more than a kiss, she exited the Grantham Arms through a back entrance. The entire walk back to Downton she was fuming, wondering why two people of Tom's status were so disapproving of her relationship with the chauffeur. She had called it so because it was and she was sure that both Anna and Bates had acknowledged its existence. Tom had told her of that night he had dropped her off. He had promised her he'd go unseen and he had broken that promise unwillingly. She couldn't get mad at him. This would all be over soon; part of her was just waiting to get caught.

Back inside the Grantham arms, Bates was stirring his tea while Anna walked back from the bar with the plates of food they had ordered.

"Didn't you find that odd?" He asked as she approached their table.

Anna sat down now, placing her husband's plate in front of him. "I find most things in this house odd. In this town, for that matter…" She was avoiding his gaze, using the pads of her fingers to squeeze a lemon into her tea.

"Anna…"

"Please stop staring at me in that way, John. I don't know anything...and Sybil is a smart girl!" She offered. It was as if Sybil was someone that didn't need to be explained. People often discussed Mary downstairs, and even Edith, but Sybil went without words spoken about her. Her profession and the heart she wore made her one of them. And now, this boy she was with drew the final line, connecting it all into a single shape.

"I just thought you would have stopped her. I know they're friends. She came to the kitchen once to give him a newspaper he had let her borrow. Only I was there but I promised the boy I wouldn't say anything-"

"And you didn't?" Anna choked out, quickly wanting to cover her lips after she had done so. Were her words as hurried and stressed as she hoped Sybil was, somewhere off with Tom?

"It was a newspaper and this was back during the war. But I saw them again a week or so ago. It was a book this time. Apparently Lady Sybil had left a book in the cab of the Renault and he was just returning it to her." He paused. "Am I to believe these two are friends? I mean, how can they be?"

Anna stiffened as she sat up. "I'm friends with Lady Mary, and you with the Earl," she explained, wanting nothing more than for this particular conversation to stop. She smattered a bit of butter on her toast before biting into the contents.

"As men can be friends with men and women with women," he wrote off with a laugh. "Not ladies and drivers. Boys and girls are not meant to be together in that way, not even if he was a gentleman."

Anna thought back to Gretna Green and how Mary had disclosed to her how Tom was planning to sleep in the chair next to Sybil's bed. Mary, of course, dismissed the action as a joke, still unable to process the love her baby sister had for someone Anna thought to be such a standup man. "He is a gentleman, though, not one any of them in the house would ever approve of but…"

"Exactly. Now, we will speak no more on this. If Lord Grantham hears I saw his youngest daughter going up to the chauffeur's room, he'll have me hung."

"He won't know. None of them will. Leave the girl alone, and the boy too, alright? They're young and they're just friends…" Anna lied. She lied for herself and the two lovers that were somewhere above her, no doubt stealing only the most chaste of kisses. Her heart swelled, remembering meeting, falling in love with and then marrying John, who now saw across her disapprovingly. He must have heard it, the tone in her voice telling him to drop the conversation completely. What he didn't hear was the guilt settling into his wife's shoulders as she so clearly lied to him. Sybil was smart but Anna knew far more than she told. What she didn't know was why it was so difficult to be honest with him. Surely, as Valet, Bates would disclose such a thing to Lord Grantham. Anna understood all too well the bond between the family at Downton and those who helped them get dressed each morning and before each meal.

* * *

Thank you, Thank you, THANK YOU to all of my lovely readers and especially those of you who review. Specifically I'd like to thank piperholmes and gothamgirl28 for recommending my story on tumblr. Really ladies, I was so happy to see that and it was such a compliment coming from the both of you! And big ups to for favorite-ing and reading since I posted the first chapter.

Just a minute to extend my gratitude because I can't tell you how much I appreciate the people that have followed and are continuing to follow this story. Considering I wrote this so selfishly to help myself get over the unmentionables from S3, I'm glad it has grown to be so much more than that.

Thank you all again!

x. Elle


	9. Complete

**A/N:** Apparently I suck at writing Anna/Bates. I was SUPER embarrassed after someone mentioned it, but I do appreciate the honesty in reviews! I wasn't one hundred percent (or even, like, fifty percent) confident posting the last chapter. The part with Anna/Bates was an add on after my beta mentioned I should bring the Anna being at Gretna Green storyline and the Bates seeing Branson outside the house storyline full circle. I'm not a huge fan of them as a couple, and I only really enjoy Anna as an individual (sorry, just my opinion!). So basically what I'm saying is I'm sorry if that last bit was distracting because it was so out of character. I tried...now I just know to not try...ever again.

**Timeline:** Sometime after their announcement in 2x08. You'll see exactly where it falls shortly.

**Song:** _Complete_ - Austin Gibbs

* * *

Reluctantly, Tom had let Sybil come up to his room. It wasn't that he didn't want to see her, or didn't want to hold her the way that he presently was with both of them stuffed on the twin bed against the wall. It was more that he didn't trust himself. In a way he had always thanked the lines that were so clearly drawn at Downton. It kept him from reaching out and kissing her when it was all that he wanted. Now, he wanted those same things, and the allure of knowing that she wanted them too made their kisses deep and all too frequent. Thankfully there was a door on his room and nobody, if she wanted, was to bother them. Certainly not until he had to send her off to get ready for dinner.

"How's your ma-" He stopped himself, unsure of what to call her. Tom settled on the name he knew well, the name he had called her by many times before when opening and closing the door to the Renault was the only time they ever interacted. "...Lady Grantham doing?"

Sybil smiled. She reached up to stroke his cheek. "Much better. Now stop with the pleasantries before I leave you here alone."

"We couldn't have that," he teased back. "You taste too good," he mumbled, seizing her lips against his own. The space she inhabited pressed against him was small, only to be made smaller as she deepened the kiss. She was practically on top of him now. He was sure that if she wasn't in her skirt, each of her legs would have been on either side of him.

With her hands cupping his cheeks, Tom reached around, letting one arm rest on her backside while the other ventured up to hold her head. She seemed to like this position with him in control, his hand cupping her cheek as his fingers delved into the curls that rested behind her ear. She moaned as he pulled her closer. He wanted to ask if she was okay, if this was okay, but it was her tongue that licked at his lips and then found solace against the pressure of his own, minutes later.

When she pulled away, Tom smiled, kissing her forehead as he mumbled something about how beautiful she was, against her skin. "I love you so much, Sybil."

"Mhm," she said, placing a chaste kiss to his nose. "I love you too." She kissed him again and then again, until they were back in their original positions with Sybil curled into Tom's chest. He held her close, making sure she didn't get too far as his arm stroked at her shoulder.

They had almost fallen asleep when a knock sounded at the door. Tom jumped up, waking a still Sybil in the process. She suddenly looked concerned as she draped her sweater around her shoulders. "Are you expecting company?"

Tom shook his head. "Who would I be expecting, love?"

She nodded, buttoning her long cardigan before searching around for her hat and gloves. Both were on his dresser. Another knock. "If they don't go away, I can't go out there. I can't have someone see me leaving your room-" Another knock, then one more.

"Okay! One minute!," Tom yelled over his shoulder in the direction of the door. "The closet," he whispered down to Sybil. "I'll get them to leave and tell you when the coast is clear."

"Promise?" Tom kissed her lips and then guided her into the closet. He shut the door once she was situated sitting in the back corner of the small dusty space.

He would have felt bad if the person knocking at the door wasn't her father. It was though, and Lord Grantham had things to say to Tom that he was sure his daughter would be none too pleased to hear. It only made what Tom said all the more prominent. He stood taller knowing that he was standing up for Sybil, his best friend and soulmate, in a way that he had yet to do in the past. How could the woman that he loved be reduced to such a little girl by the same man that was supposed to be her father? He was sure now that Lord Grantham had never asked Sybil what she thought and now as she sent him on his way, Tom was sure that he never would.

"Syb?" He opened the closet door, seeing Sybil playing with the fingertips of her satin gloves. "Syb, I-"

She jumped up, lunging herself toward Tom. "You were perfect," she lamented before placing a fiery kiss to his lips. "You are perfect," she said, pulling away.

"Isn't this the part where you tell me I don't need to stick up for you? And that a man-"

"But you are a man, Tom. You're my best friend. And I guess all of the other men in my life have all been like my father and have treated me like a child. Growing up I guessed that someday I'd have a husband and he would treat me the same way."

"You're most definitely not a child," Tom mumbled in both defense and wit.

"I am the luckiest girl in the world. I'm marrying my best friend and he doesn't care where I've come from or who my family is. You treat me like an equal and I am so grateful for that." She paused before grabbing his hand to pull him toward the door. "Let's go!"

"What are you talking about, crazy girl?"

"I am crazy! I'm talking about you and me...getting married," she continued. "I'm ready. I want to do it. Right now. You and me for the rest of our lives."

"Sybil, we can't-"

"Why can't forever start today?"

"Because I don't want our forever to happen just to spite your father…"

Sybil sent him a glare. "If I wanted to tell my father where to go, I would be more than happy to do so without you, thank you very much. Besides, don't you just want to leave?" Tom nodded, wanting to say things he couldn't form into sentences. There were no words for what he was feeling.

"Kiss me, crazy girl." It was an order she was all too happy to oblige. She kissed him, and then some, grabbing him by the arms as she pulled her body close to his. Both were lost in the moment, searching for more than the ground below to hold them up.

"I wish he had found me in here," she whispered into his chest.

Tom nudged Sybil's chin upward so that her eyes were set upon his. "Sybil, you really need to stop saying those things."

"Why? Don't you like hearing them?"

"I like hearing them all too much, love, but you're writing a check you can't cash."

"Tom Branson, I can do whatever I please. And if this whole thing between you and me is going to work out," she said, signaling between the both of them, "then I suggest you support me on these things."

"Are you teasing, love?"

"Don't you know it," she said, biting her lip before he kissed her smirk away. She giggled, dropping her head back as he attacked her neck. He left a mark, something she only saw when she pulled off her sweater to change before dinner. When her mother asked her about the mark she ignored her comments, instead stating something about the irritating necklace she had worn into town.

What she wanted, more than anything in the world, was to be back in Tom's room at the Grantham Arms, where her confidence on matters such as these were welcomed and not stunted. She would forever be shadowed here and pushed toward a path that she did not want, a path she would never truly be capable of finding happiness on. She wanted to run but a part of her already felt like she had. This same part of her stilled the thoughts in her head that told her she should slow down and reconsider. She never would and she never did; a week and a half later they were on a boat headed for Dublin.

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Thank you for reading! Please review if you feel up to it! I love hearing what you all have to say!

x. Elle


	10. In This Boat Together

**Timeline:** Dublin. All things Irish, all the time (finally!). If you know me, you know that I grew up in a home where my Irish heritage is very prominent. I come from a huge Irish Catholic family and I know a little bit of Gaeilge. When Fellowes completely dropped all of these great story lines, I was crushed. Needless to say, the Irish girl in me was so nostalgic writing all of this! Whatever I have kept from this point on that is true to canon is because I wish to rewrite what Fellowes treated with little care. Please do not for a minute think that I think this man had any proper execution in the small amount of good ideas he had with season 3.

**Song:** _In This Boat Together_ - The Frames

* * *

The night sky was dotted with pinks and blues fading out into a much more somber grey that shaded in the tops of the Dublin skyline. They were both sleepy now, shown best by Sybil latching onto Tom's arm as he pointed out his favorite places in the smog covered city. He was sure she would forget all of this in the morning but she egged him on nonetheless, nodding into him as she watched their feet cross over one another on the cobblestone streets below.

Sybil giggled into his shoulder as a silence settled over them. She wanted to be home, wherever that was, with Tom. Her legs were growing weak and all traces of her aristocratic background were left back in Yorkshire before they had departed. Like the one piece of luggage she was carrying, she was more than willing to leave most of herself behind. She imagined her suitcase was enough for all of Dublin to see that this journey had changed her. She would have come empty-handed if it meant convincing the rest of the world her feelings for Tom were real.

The walk from the docks into the North side of town was simple but calculated. Sybil followed Tom, loving how he pulled her along, inviting her to places he had been a million times. This was home for him and she thought, as she took in the government buildings that disappeared into rows of working-class homes, it could absolutely be home for her as well.

"Sybil, we're here."

She looked up, her eyes feasting on a row of brick townhouses pushed up tightly against one another. It was dark but the light from the street lamps guided them down the row to where Sybil could only assume Tom's parents lived. Their house in particular was three cramped stories much like the others. She wondered, as they stepped inside and Sybil realized these were apartments and not town homes, how many families lived like Tom's in living quarters much too small for their large families. Sybil also made a mental note to ask if this was the home he grew up in or if they had moved since then.

Immediately she thought of Downton, and how a few years ago it was the only place she called home. Now that definition was changing, marked by the boy holding her hand, leading her into the warmth of the interior that now protected them.

"This is quaint."

Tom laughed. "You know I hate that word." A reminder of the vocabulary, the words he used, like humming her favorite song on a warm Spring day for only her to hear.

Sybil smiled in return, throwing her arm over his shoulder as she did so. Their faces were rather close now, urging Sybil to kiss his lips and entice him into more. In doing so, she had ignored Tom ringing one of the bells on the wall behind her back. It only occurred to her that they were not alone when Mrs. Branson, a petite woman in her mid-fifties opened the door behind them to reveal her middle child and his bride-to-be attached at the lips. "Tom Branson, I swear to Christ when you are in this house-"

Tom separated himself from Sybil. The warmth of his fiance was replaced by the heat he felt coming from his mother's stance, her hands on her hips as she glared at the two of them in patient scorn. "Hi Mam-"

"Hi Mam?" Her words were incredulous. "I don't see you in four years and it's 'Hi Mam'? And you're kissing girls on my doorstep-" Sybil watched as Mrs. Branson left them at the open door, traveling down the long hallway that separated the front door from the rest of the house.

They followed, Tom grabbing Sybil's hand to lead her in. She obliged, but only when his other hand found the small of her back. There was an urgency in their motions, one not evident minutes before when the cold night pushed them off the ferry and onto the streets of the city.

"Not a girl, Ma, this is Sybil," Tom offered, nudging her forward. Sybil, like a doll at his mercy, smiled, loving the way she would never be just a girl to him. She would have kissed his cheeks for that statement if his mother wasn't still looking at them waiting for an answer to a question she had yet to ask. Sybil wondered if the world would ever let them explain or if it would always be like this; their existence being enough proof.

Sybil took off her gloves and immediately stuck out her hand with an enthusiasm not seen by Mrs. Branson or this house in quite some time. "Hello Mrs. Branson. Sybil Crawley. Erm, I'm sorry we were-" Sybil pointed over her shoulder toward the door. Her voice trailed off, realizing it was impossible to justify such a thing. Sybil also wasn't sure she wanted to excuse herself, her lips still tingling.

"Hi, dear." Mrs. Branson took her in, starting at her shiny black shoes and then going all the way up to her dark hair, pinned back at the nape of her neck. She certainly did not look Irish. Or rather, did not look like any Irish girls from this neighborhood. _Maybe Tommy could tell them he found her in Southern Ireland_, she thought. "Have you eaten? Has he fed you?" She was off again, leaving the thought behind. Sybil noticed how fleeting Mrs. Branson seemed to be. She was there and then she was gone, onto the next task in the next room over.

"He has. We had dinner on the train." It was a fact Sybil was proud of. They had soup, something so simple and yet Sybil couldn't remember a time her and Tom had been more content. Was it really one of the first meals they had shared together?

"Lovely." Her response was curt and as she returned, brushing past her son and this new girl, It was then that Sybil realized her face was not in time with the words she spoke, causing a cautious lump to grow in the young girl's throat.

Sybil straightened up, taking all of this in. They may have arrived in Dublin but Sybil still felt as if she was in limbo, forfeiting her acceptance at Downton only to be poorly welcomed into this new world.

"Sybil, darling, you can put your bags in here," Mrs. Branson said, gesturing to the room behind where Sybil stood. The young girl looked up, watching as Mrs. Branson opened the door to reveal a modest room with a bed and an armoire. It reminded Sybil of the inn her and Tom had stayed at while in Liverpool. She reminded herself not to say that, a thought that was only reinforced when his mother's next order came: "Tom, you're on the couch tonight."

"What about Katherine's old room?" Now he was moving too, if only to keep up with his mother. Sybil remained stationary behind them, her arms clasped in front of her with her drawstring bag hanging down near her knees. It swayed in time but eventually came to a stop. For a moment, Sybil wished to disappear into her room and fall asleep. A tired mind pictured her, even here, sitting on the floor and closing her eyes.

"Oh, is the couch not good enough for you?" Mrs. Branson's tone changed from one of indignation to one of pure fact. "Your sister is asleep in her old room. She's home from school this weekend. Excuse her for inconveniencing you." Somehow Sybil was attentive to this, noticing for as active as his mother was, her demeanor seemed to be rather kind. She was cold but comforting in the same way cooled tea was to a thirsty mouth.

"And Pa?"

"Will be home on Friday." Mrs. Branson was off toward the kitchen now, leaving Sybil and Tom to simply gawk at one another in the hallway. They soon followed, but only because they were left without any other options. Tom had briefed Sybil on his family but for some reason it was the look on his face that made her seem as if this was all new for him as well. "What is it with all the questions? Is this my home or yours?"

Tom turned to Sybil, noticing how her eyes had widened the more they sunk back into their shells. He felt bad for leaving her so exhausted like this, especially when his mother seemed to want to wake them both up. "Syb, can I talk to my Mam alone? I'm sorry, love..."

If they were in the same place they had been for the past few months, neither at Downton or in Dublin, Sybil was sure that question would have been followed by a kiss to the forehead. It was her favorite part of being with Tom, their little kisses shared like secrets between two people who felt that the world owed them moments like these to be cherished. Each kiss like a whisper: _you're young, you love each other, enjoy this. _

"Don't apologize. I'm going to unpack my things and then read the paper," Sybil whispered. For reasons she was unaware of, she was hesitant of how to react to Tom's mother. She had always been the only girl in Tom's life and now she was at the mercy of this woman whose petite frame was demanding of respect and yet still so discrete.

Tom watched Sybil go, his eyes trained on her back as she shut out this new Irish world. His mother had been watching too, watching the way his son stared at this new girl, wondering all the while how much weight this all carried. Her words did not come until the guest bedroom door was flush securely against the jamb. "Is she pregnant?"

Mrs. Branson was standing on one side of the kitchen counter with her son on the other. At the sound of her voice, Tom approached her. "What? No, she is most definitely not pregnant!"

"Are you positive?"

"Fully, Ma!" Tom rubbed at his eyes out of both shock and embarrassment. This was most certainly not the conversation he wanted to be having with his mother. Not now, after midnight, and not ever, even after his mother would learn what a kind and compassionate love he had found in the girl on the other side of the door.

"I saw the look you gave her when I told you the sleeping arrangements. I know how you boys are-"

"No, Ma, you know how Kieran and Michael were. Sybil is a good girl. Hell, she's the best. She makes me better..."

"And when this love wears off? Hmm? What then, Tommy?"

Tom leaned over the counter, grabbing for the mug of coffee his mother had just poured for him. God, he had missed this. There was a routine here, a routine that despite the best parts of himself he wanted to escape from when he was seventeen. It was also the same routine that pulled him back to Dublin and beckoned that he stay. He wished to show it to Sybil, hoping that like the best of habits, she'd allow it to grab her and never let her go. There was love here worth searching for.

"It hasn't. I've loved her for almost six years now and I reckon she's loved me for just as long. If it hasn't worn off by now I don't know if it ever will. I just know I never want it to-"

Mrs. Branson sat down at the stool next to her son. Tom looked up, unaware of when she had even come out from behind the counter. Gently, she placed a hand to her son's shoulder. "Tommy, you are so far in. You don't know, my boy. You don't know how hard this is going to be. She is English! They have killed your family! You don't know what it's been like here-"

He stood up now, leaving his coffee mug behind. "And you don't know her! I don't care where she was born or where she grew up, okay? I love her, you're right. And I won't apologize for that. She is the best thing to ever happen to me. And I'm sorry she's not the girl you always wanted for me-"

His mother was sitting and he was standing off by the oven on the far wall. The roles had changed but not in the way he wanted them to. She was right; he was almost too far in.

"Tommy, I just want you to be happy. Please do not have me mistaken for a mother who cares more about the nationality of her grand babies-and there will be grand babies- than her son's health and happiness. I just want to make sure you know what you're doing."

Tom laughed. A typical Irish Catholic response: warning against the evils of pregnancy all the while expecting the very thing should a grandmother stand to be successful in this world. He thought of his mother and her church groups discussing his new wife and the life Tom had undoubtedly led in England to find her. But of course all ills can be explained away by the presence of a child.

"You can ask me-"

Tom turned, hearing his fiancee's voice from behind where he stood. His back was to her but he could feel her eyes burning into him. She was asking for assistance when it was her turn to be his rock.

"Sybil, love, it's-"

She stepped forward. It was now that Tom realized how much closer she was to his mother than he had originally guessed. He turned around, not paying attention to the look on Sybil's face. He knew this version of her well. Now It was his mother that he was worried about.

"No, Tom. I can't sit there and pretend I'm not hearing all of this. And Mrs. Branson, I'm sorry to talk out of turn and my mother would probably smite me if she saw me right now but I'd like to ask you what part of this you think was all Tom? What part do you think I was given absolutely no choice in? Do you think I was forced on the boat or dragged to your doorstep? Because I wasn't. Your son is my best, best friend and we made these decisions together. That's why I love him so very much. He gives me options and we almost always agree on the outcomes together..."

"Excuse me, Sybil I just have a hard time figuring out why a girl like you, with your looks and standing would want to come to Dublin. You're young, I get that. But you're giving up a lot."

"It's not my world to lose." Her words were matter of fact. Tom loved her honesty and wished that she would keep talking so he could commit more of it to memory.

"Fair enough."

"If you don't want me to stay here, I understand but I'm not going anywhere-"

The mood in the room changed. "Darling, if my son says you are as wonderful of a girl as you seem to be, you are always welcome in this house, do you hear me?" Something that Sybil was sure would have offended Tom's mother instead instilled respect between the two women. Tom smiled, doing his best not to show his satisfaction.

"Yes ma'am."

"Enough with the 'ma'am' nonsense...it's Helen."

Sybil smiled. Growing up in a world where respect was given and not earned she found herself oddly surprised that she had somehow won over Mrs. Branson. Never before did Sybil care what someone thought of her the way she cared about Tom's mother's opinion. It meant almost as much to her as the love of her son. "Right. Of course. And we really appreciate all of this. I know it's an inconvenience-"

"Sybil, you're a part of this family now. Or you will be. I just need you to be strong while you're here. Dublin is my home and we're a good people but your people haven't always been kind...do you understand that?"

Sybil sighed, stepped into where Tom and his mother were. The gap was closed, alleviated by the sigh Sybil let out. "Unfortunately, I do. Is it really as bad as you say?"

"It's getting better. But I can tell you now they're not going to like the fact that my Tommy has married an English girl. And they definitely will not like the fact that you're a 'crat."

"Mam!"

Sybil was next to Tom now. He shivered when he felt her hand upon his. He remembered back to the garden party and how many times she had held his hand since then. This was the seventh time, if his memory was correct.

"She's fine, Tom. Don't raise your voice to your mother, please..."

"And you? What do you think of all of it?" Tom looked down, avoiding his mother's glance as he instead stared at the space between him and Sybil where their hands were attached.

"I think that you're both foolish but I remember what it's like to be young and in love. I remember how nothing else in the world mattered and Sybil seems to be a strong girl and I know how strong you are, Tommy." A deep inhalation settled the matter: "You two will be fine."

"Is that your blessing, Ma?"

"That's my blessing. When your father gets home we'll discuss it more. I'm not going to stop you. You're both adults. I need to remember that."

"Thanks, Ma," Tom whispered. He hadn't urged the action but his lips were suddenly pressed to Sybil's cheek, a reassurance for the love he felt radiating around the room. As his mouth graced her skin, she smiled into his lips, both of them forgetting where they were and who they were with.

Mrs. Branson took off her apron. She hung the material on the back of the pantry door, wiping her hands on the soft cloth after she did so. "Don't mention it. And please don't wake everyone. I put a kettle on for Tea for you, Sybil. Blow out the candles before bed, you hear?"

"Thank you..." They both mumbled, watching as Helen disappeared out of the kitchen and to the back hallway where the rest of the household inhabitants were fast asleep. Sybil was jealous, wanting so badly to be fast asleep in Tom's arms. She blushed, thinking of the night before, the first night she was allowed to fall asleep next to him.

Tom poured Sybil a cup of tea. She admired his attention to detail; two sugar cubes and a splash of milk. "Whose here?," Sybil inquired.

"Katherine's home from school, then Patrick."

"And your Dad..."

"Works in London during the week."

Sybil looked down, sipped her tea causing her eyes to disappear into the glass mug. "Right. Sorry."

Tom reached out, stroking her hand. "He's a good man, Syb. He just got caught up in the wrong stuff. The Rising was-"

"I'm sure he's a great man. I don't think you came out of nowhere...the house is lovely," Sybil finished.

Tom smiled. "It becomes less lovely the more people are in it. Wait for Sunday brunch."

Sybil brightened up, suddenly loving how natural all of this was. "How many will there be then?"

"Twenty, maybe."

Still smiling, she giggled. "Oh, I love it." A number that would usually seem overwhelming at Downton was suddenly conservative and welcoming.

"We'll see."

"I will. I love it already. The city is beautiful and your Mum was perfect."

"You don't have to lie about my Mam-"

Sybil cut him off. "She was! She likes me..."

The air softened. "Anyone would be crazy not to love you..." He kissed her forehead. Tom's words were true, as true as they had ever been. She wanted to hear them again. Instead, she continued the conversation, hoping words would reform to make sentences that sounded exactly the same.

"I don't know if I'll be able to sleep tonight."

Tom looked up. A silence must have settled over them causing her admission to catch him off guard. His face dropped, drawing a blank stare for him to cast upon her. "You have to, Syb. I wish I could-"

"No, I know. And I would never. I'm being silly, I guess. For a girl that's barely had you in her bed I'm missing it more than I should."

"I'll be in your bed soon enough," Tom said. He was teasing, she knew that much. She also knew she enjoyed when they were like this. She was a woman now. Something she used to have to remind herself of was now so evident every time he smiled her way.

Tom moved over to where she was, wrapping his arms around her midsection. She settled back into him, loving the way her body fit perfectly against his. "I just want you to hold me, just like this."

"I would if I could. To sleep by your side would be perfect."

Sybil closed her eyes to savor the moment.

As she opened them, she awoke up in what she remembered was the guest room. She was in her nightgown, figuring she must have changed herself before bed. Her hair was braided; she guessed she had done that too. The bed she was curled up in was warm despite the room lacking a fireplace. Not warm enough though, to keep her.

She grabbed for her shawl and wrapped the scarf material around her body. She remembered how she had done the same thing on the night she left Downton for the first time. Now, she needed it for different reasons. For comfort, and not to fight off the cold.

Her feet brought her to the couch, the same cushioned love seat her fiance was sleeping soundly on. She watched him, loving the way his chest rose and fell as he breathed in and out. Sybil so lovingly wanted to let him sleep, if only so she could watch him, but she thought better of it. This was not her house, and although she may not be a lady anymore, she still respected the woman she knew was sleeping only a floor above. "Tom?"

He opened his eyes, but only barely. It was enough for him to see her hovering above him, playing with the curled hairs at the tied off end of her braid. Dear god, she was beautiful. "Sybil, you need to get to bed," he whispered, allowing his mind to speak things his heart wouldn't dare. Other parts of him doubted his statement as well.

"I can't sleep, Tom. Not without you. This is my first night here. Please-"

She was begging and Tom couldn't help but to want to give in. "Syb, my Mam-" But he knew this was a battle worth losing. After he had sent her off to bed he had wished the same thing; for her body to be pressed against his just as it was the night before on the small bed they shared.

"I'll go back to bed before daybreak," she said, doing her best to convince him of her innocent intentions, intentions he didn't doubt or reciprocate. "Please, Tom. I need you."

He didn't answer her. He couldn't lie, not now with her lips so full and her hair so mussed; he needed her too. Dancing around the issue was no use; Tom picked up the quilt he was laying underneath and invited her in. Immediately, he felt the smooth skin of her legs as her body pressed against his on the couch. He had seen the nightgown she had worn to bed and the way it had fallen down almost to her ankles. As she nestled into him, it hiked up past her knee. Tom shivered, thinking how close they had become in such a short period of time.

Instinctively, she moved against him causing him to respond in a similar manner. Soon, they were both perfectly comfortable, even on the small confines of the couch. _Christ, she was so small and yet to strong. _he thought. She clung to him the way she had so many times before. This time, out of want, and not out of need.

No matter what she said, he'd always be able to see through her and right now he was proud of the fact. He thought of Downton and this girl he used to call a friend. She was breathing into his neck now, taking every inch of him in as he pressed a kiss to her temple.

Tom wanted to laugh; she had once denied him of friendship and now, as he laid next to the one girl in the world who would always be his best friend, he thought of how they were so much more. As Sybil fell asleep, their bodies intertwined, Tom thought how he didn't want her to leave at Daybreak. He didn't ever want her to leave.

Indifferent to the guilt they felt and the duty they had to be respectful, Tom and Sybil could only accept the rush they felt in their cheeks when Mrs. Branson found them the next morning, breathing each other in and out as sleep continued to reassure them.

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Thanks for reading!

x. Elle


	11. Towers

**Timeline:** Screw Disney. [Still in] Dublin: The Happiest Place On Earth.

**Song:** _Towers_ - Bon Iver

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Sybil had been to church but not once had she ever even seen a Catholic Church, much less sat through a mass of the same religion. She was almost as nervous about going to church as she was for seeing the people there, the Irish people, the girls mostly, with their simple frocks and bright smiles. This was also the first day she'd meet Tom's family and they, her. She had spent the past few days with his mother and sister Katherine, both of whom she was growing extremely fond of. They were kind and outspoken, a sharp contrast to the family she had left behind in Yorkshire. It was always one or the other, with Sybil being the exception to all of it.

Katherine was Tom's favorite sister and immediately Sybil knew why. She was reserved but never afraid to use wit when she felt it was necessary. Her and Sybil got along immediately, right after Katherine had her chance to make fun of Sybil for ever seeing something in her older brother. Sybil smiled, realizing her love for Tom was something that could never be explained. She had a million reasons for it, all of which he shared, but none that she would ever consider revealing to the rest of the world.

Tom's youngest brother, Patrick was the most fond of Sybil, something that Tom found rather amusing. It made Sybil uncomfortable; she was not yet used to receiving much attention from anyone but Tom. Growing up at Downton had protected her from the world, providing her a safety that could often be confused for immaturity.

Sybil was beautiful, Tom knew that from the day he had met her, and apparently so did his youngest brother. The day after Sybil arrived Patrick asked her if she wanted to go into town with him. Sybil politely neglected the offer, sending the seventeen year old into a blushing fit as he embarrassingly pushed the peas in his soup around with his spoon. Tom could only laugh, reminding himself how kind and desirable she was and how somehow through it all she had picked him.

On Friday she had met Mr. Branson. Though she was warned of his past and his involvement during the rising that led to his current job in Belfast, Sybil found herself enjoying the time they spent after dinner, drinking tea and discussing literature. He was brilliant, and he took to her right away. Tom enjoyed this all the same, always watching from the far sofa as his father and bride to be engaged in discussions on London, the upcoming elections, and Sybil's work during the war. She was happy to share, a fact Tom was sure of only because he knew how much she enjoyed impressing those she never needed to. It matter far more than the opinions of those who she was told would count.

Helen, despite her apprehension, was learning to love Sybil as well. She'd never admit it, but she enjoyed the way the young girl insisted on helping with meals and how Sybil had secretly asked the elder woman if she could teach her to make coffee and do laundry. Helen laughed, quickly agreeing when she saw how serious Sybil was. Helen could only smile, knowing the exact intention behind it as Sybil watched each morning to see how Tom took his coffee.

In Dublin, she was living for Tom, something that somehow allowed her to finally live for herself as well. Not once did she ever pretend to be a girl she was not. Sybil was a Lady, something Mrs. Branson had no trouble reminding the young girl of. Sybil would smile her way, feeling a fondness for a title she never felt she deserved. She was different. Not better, but different. And then suddenly she wasn't sure if she was talking about her family back home or the new family she had created in Dublin.

As they walked in to the church, Sybil took off her hat and gloves. The early summer morning was surprisingly warm but she thanked her attire all the same as she suddenly felt eyes pressed into her skin. Tom felt them too, resting his hand to the small of her back out of habit.

His family walked up ahead, leaving the two to stay back and take it all in. They did and then immediately regretted the fact. Never before had Sybil felt like more of an outsider. Her stomach was spinning and she thanked the strength in Tom's grip as she was ushered into the pew to sit. Tom genuflected, causing Sybil to stop and stare. The trend continued when he knelt next to his sister, leaving a confused Sybil sitting on the bench beside them.

She remained calm, looking around at the crosses on the wall and the large marble statues lining the alcoves. A faint light shone in through the glass windows above, illuminated the organ pipes on the ceiling above the altar. It was similar to the church in Downton, but on a much larger scale. Sybil heard her father's voice, stating so many things about the flashiness of the Catholic religion.

As she looked around, her eyes observing the chatter occurring between families and friends, she failed to notice Tom was sitting again. He grabbed for her hand, holding it in his lap. She smiled at him, loving how concerned he was. Sybil hoped her bright features were enough to convince him that she was comfortable.

"You okay, love?" His lips brushed against her earlobe sending a faint shiver down her spine.

"It's just different," she whispered, unaware of who was listening. Different was okay, she reminded herself. Different was good.

"They're staring at me. Not you," he confirmed. "I haven't been home since before the war. I'm sure they thought I had died," he offered.

It was supposed to comfort her but Sybil faltered, her face becoming pale. "Please don't say that."

Tom smiled, stroking her thumb with his own. "I love you," he whispered, kissing her nose.

A blush painted Sybil's cheeks as she closed her eyes to savor the moment. Not once had she ever seen anyone share such affection in her church back home. She was reminded that life was different here and she thanked God, wherever he was, for that.

"I love you," she whispered back.

Tom glanced over, the end of the pew now being filled with a group Sybil could only assume to be the rest of his family. They were loud, but in a way that was welcomed. The women stopped to say hello to other members of the congregation as the men led their children into the family's pew.

Sybil couldn't help but smile, loving how warm everything was. Tom waved at all of them, everyone's eyes lighting up as they saw him. Sybil wanted to wave as well but didn't quite know how. She smiled instead, a permanent fixture on her face since she had arrived in town. It was easier than explaining herself and allowing them time to listen to her English accent while they separately took in her posh clothing. She had tried to dress down since arriving, but with their limited budget she wasn't afforded the time or money to spend on clothes that would make her fit in. Her satin blouses and shined shoes would have to do for now.

After mass, after all of the gestures and Latin prayers she didn't understand but vowed to learn, Sybil finally met the rest of Tom's family. Elizabeth, his eldest sister, hugged her with so much enthusiasm, Sybil thought she would burst. Instead she glanced back at the blonde, listening as she told Sybil how much she was looking forward to meeting her. Sybil met Elizabeth's husband and then her children as well as Tom's brother Daniel, his wife, and their three kids. Kieran was absent from mass but Tom assured Sybil of his commitment to the Sunday breakfast that followed.

The brisk air welcomed them out onto the street as the entire Branson family filtered out of the church. Helen stopped to thank the priest for such a lovely homily while Sybil and Tom talked on about something only the two of them could understand. Katherine noticed though, especially taking note of the way girls that used to be so in love with Tom took Sybil in. Her brother and his soon to be wife were oblivious and she thanked their love for pulling curtains that allowed them to ignore the prying eyes around them.

Arriving back at home, the trend continued. The rest of the family fell into their same routine, only stopping to notice the way their brother was with this new girl. Elizabeth smiled as Tom helped Sybil out of her coat and hung it up for her. Even Daniel and Patrick made brotherly comments as Tom and Sybil shared a few kisses in the foyer while the rest of the family headed into the kitchen and they swore they were alone. They had never seen their brother like this, so completely encompassed by something that calmed him down and made him look at the world differently. She was a challenge to him, and they saw that in the way she wasn't afraid to question what their brother was saying but she did it so kindly and with an open mind.

Tom was right, the house was loud, but the love within it made it seem so much larger than Downton ever was. Breakfast was accompanied by the clanking of silverware on Mrs. Branson's china. Everyone talked amongst themselves, somehow finding a way to convene in between conversations on local talk and occupations. Sybil was invited into the conversation which prompted her to invite herself into many of the smaller talks that were occurring when they family failed to convene.

Tom breathed a sigh of relief, loving how he didn't have to babysit her. It wasn't something he'd dislike, just an annoyance he knew her to be better than. She was her own woman and she often carried a conversation better than he did. After all, Ladies were brought up to entertain society with small talk and opinions fed to them from a very early age. The thought comforted him in a way he was unaware of. All the fears he had of his family accepting her had dissipated as the bowls and platters on the table emptied and the glass cups were refilled with coffee and tea.

"Tom, have you begun looking for an apartment?"

"We're signing a lease tomorrow," Sybil explained. She was beaming, thinking back to the day at the Grantham Arms when they both settled on the same flat only to find out that it was still available for rent when they arrived in Dublin.

"And you start work when Tom?" Mr. Branson asked.

"Tomorrow as well."

Katherine sat forward. "Sybil, what will you do in the meantime?"

"I plan on looking for a job," she stated, matter of factly.

"With Tom's wages, is that necessary?" That was Elizabeth, her eyes concentrated on her son sitting on her lap, but her question, no matter how simple, shot a dagger toward her brother and this new girl. Sybil was beginning to see that perhaps Tom's views on the world weren't shared by the rest of his family, much less all of Dublin. He was everyone's favorite, and still the rebellious boy with the ever handsome smile she fell in love with.

"It's not about money, Elizabeth. She wants to work," Tom explained. Sybil placed a hand on his own, doing her best to calm him down. Everyone else noticed, but said nothing, their eyes instead trained on the tension hanging like a newly formed cloud over the table.

Elizabeth persisted, finally looking up as her son ran away to play with the other children in the den. "Have you worked before?"

"Elizabeth…" Tom began, suddenly wanting all the noise to cease. Or perhaps it was too quiet, and he wanted a different conversation to take over completely.

Sybil did not falter. She continued to smile and answer the girl's questions. She had expected this and was armed with polite responses as her hand continued to stroke Tom's. "I have. I was a nurse during the war."

"A wonderful nurse," Tom said with a smile before sipping at his beverage.

"Hospitals here are different. As long as you understand that," Daniel offered up. Tom shot him a look and then suddenly felt sorry for doing so. He knew what his brother was getting at and that it was merely a warning and not a criticism. Tom just wished he had the time to explain all of this to Sybil before she received the news as an attack from a family she had only just met.

"A hospital is a hospital. You separate yourself from all of it nonetheless." Now it was Tom's turn to stroke her hand, pushing at her thumb while it pushed back. She was answering a question the rest of them had heard differently. Sybil referred to the emotions she felt and her ability to step back and leave her feelings behind at Downton when Tom drove her to work each morning. Such feelings were only uncovered when she discussed her day with Tom on the same ride home. It was something that made her as free as sneaking out to the garage to see him. Her answer was not needed, but showing all the same. _Goddamn her innocence_, he thought with a small smirk to his lips.

"I suppose that's true," Mr. Branson piped in again.

Katherine was at the counter now, retrieving the kettle from the stove. "Ma, maybe you could talk to Aunt Anne about getting Sybil a job-"

Sybil sat up straight again. "Oh, no, that won't be necessary. I have no problem applying myself."

"Of course," Helen said sweetly.

Sybil smiled over at Tom. She made a note to inquire about his sisters' behavior after breakfast. Maybe when they took up their routine of doing dishes, a time that was also spent for Tom to teach Sybil some gaeilge phrases though he insisted his family rarely spoke it anymore.

The young lovers, elbow deep in suds, splashed water on each other causing Sybil's distinct laugh to echo throughout the small house. Tom was sure that once they had left the sitting area his family would begin discussing her, but as soon as they were alone all he could hear was the way she whispered things to him. Suddenly watching her lips move was all he could focus on.

Katherine came over and sat on the kitchen counter, something that soon received scolding from her mother as she continued to add dishes to the pile Tom and Sybil were attacking. "Yes, Katherine?" Tom inquired, glaring at his prying sister.

"I can't spend time here? This isn't your house anymore..."

"No, I suppose it's not."

"Plus, you guys want me on your side. Everyone else is just waiting for this to fall apart. Elizabeth says-"

Tom's shoulders dropped as he turned to face his sister. "Was that necessary?" His eyes looked to Sybil, her hands concentrating on the plates left in the sink. She didn't seem to be too concerned by his sister's words. Her power to deflect was growing the more she was here and he wanted to pull her in and kiss her cheek to remind her that he would never doubt them the way everyone else seemed to.

"I didn't say they wanted it to, Tom. I just said that's what everyone's waiting for. You two are too good to be true...what's the catch?"

Sybil finally looked up, if only to smile. "There is no catch."

"We've had more than enough time to figure all of this out," Tom added in agreement.

Katherine's legs were swaying off the counter reminding Tom of all of those nights spent in the garage with Sybil. "How did that work anyway? How does a Lady fraternize with the help?" He thought back, smelling the grease mixing with her perfume as she would slowly walk in and invite him into a conversation they had certainly already exhausted.

"It wasn't fraternizing, Katherine. Your brother is my best friend." Sybil was stern now, her eyes unable to focus on anything other than the silverware left in the sink. She was afraid that if she looked up Katherine's eyes would reveal things she was not yet ready to hear. Sybil scrubbed, dipping the fork she was currently washing into the warm water to rinse it off.

"And your parents were okay with you hanging out with your driver?"

"They didn't know..."

"Oh…" A pause allowing Katherine to make the necessary connections. "You two have been sneaking around for this long then?"

"Katherine, please..."

"I'm sorry. I'm just curious. I'm really rooting for you two," she said, jumping off the counter. "And Sybil, I don't think you're pregnant." Katherine headed back out to the sitting room, leaving Tom and Sybil to watch her go.

When she was gone, Sybil added more dishes to the water to soak and wiped her hands on the apron around her waist. "Why does everyone think I'm pregnant?" Her eyes were wide and her voice was incredulous causing Tom to laugh.

"Because they can't understand why someone as perfect as you would agree to leave your life and live with me. They want to make an honest woman out of you…"

Sybil stepped into him, wrapping her arms around his neck. Tom settled his hands on her hips, loving the lack of distance between them since they left Downton. They couldn't seem to keep their hands off of one another lately. "I love you, Tom. I love you, I love you, I-" He cut her off with a kiss then one more. She deepened it, not caring if her hands were wet as she fisted the back of his vest. He moaned into her mouth, needing her much closer.

"That, is why everyone thinks you're pregnant," Katherine whispered, dropping the last pile of dishes onto the counter to be washed. Tom and Sybil stepped apart, blank stares on their faces to replace the explanation they should have prepared. When she was gone again, Sybil dropped her head onto Tom's shoulder, laughing into the abrasive material of his shirt.

When the dishes were done, all placed haphazardly on a towel on the counter to dry, Sybil and Tom stole away to the guest room to read the paper. While in Liverpool, they found that they enjoyed this pastime, especially because it allowed Sybil to rest against Tom, pretending to read the periodicals as she listened to his heart beat beneath her.

A knock on the door warned them, but both in a Sunday stupor were too complacent to part. "Ya?" Tom called out, being greeted by nearly all of his siblings at the door who didn't seem to need an invitation to enter the room. Sybil smiled, finally being urged to sit up as the eyes of her in laws were cast deep upon her.

"We're all heading out..."

"Sybil, come into the village tomorrow and we can discuss wedding plans," Elizabeth invited, causing Katherine to beam in agreement.

"Oh, right. Of course," she finished. She was unsure of Elizabeth, a girl who was often both ebullient and doubting.

"It's good to have you home, Tom."

"Slán."

"Slán go fóill," they all murmured, leaving the room just as quickly as they had entered it.

Sybil curled into Tom again, not caring that the door was still open. "Say it again," Sybil teased.

He kissed her. "I am never saying goodbye to you."

"Not even if I beg? Please?" she said, complying to her threat.

"Not even then." He kissed the tip of her nose, then her lips, settling into something he most likely should not have enticed with the rest of the world invited in. They both thought nothing of it, Sybil crawling up toward him as he pulled for her, hiking her one leg up and over his own. She purred, her body feeling electric as he touched her like this, so gently and so sure. The two remained like this for quite some time until Helen walked by, managing to avert her gaze just long enough to let her son and his fiance know that she had seen more than enough.

Sybil giggled and then settled back into Tom. The two of them had the uncanny ability to go from being lovers to friends and then back to a place at rest where they found themselves somewhere in between.

Sybil sat up, straightening out her blouse. She was looking in the mirror that rested on the top of the small dresser parallel to the bed. "I liked church today."

Tom sat up with her, suddenly feeling an urge to put the paper down. "Did you really?" His eyes were searching hers now, looking for any sign of doubt that went unnoticed in her voice.

No longer enjoying the playful way her back was turned to him, she shifted her body so that one leg was up on the bed while the other draped down toward the ground. Sybil thanked Dublin and the skirt she wore for allowing her to finally be so casual with Tom. "I did. I want to go again."

"We go every Sunday," he said, returning his eyes back to the black ink on the starched paper he held in his hands. There was a hint of humor in his voice that Sybil brushed off as she continued.

"I want our children to be Catholic, Tom."

The newspaper was dropped again, this time closed completely and set on the bedside table as Tom sat forward and reached for her. "Sybil, it's too early for-"

She crawled over to him again, sitting in a way that only she could, her legs crossed over one another, she a little girl and he the man she loved. "No, I do. You're my life now. You're Catholic and today I saw how much your religion means to you and I couldn't help but to think back to Downton where we just went to go. It didn't mean anything," she added for reassurance. The words were as comforting to her as they were to him.

Tom stroked at her cheek, pulling her face into his so he could kiss her forehead. "I'm a lucky lad, you know that?"

Sybil blushed, looking down toward the quilt they both sat on. "Not as lucky as I am. Your family doesn't hate me. I am overjoyed." The last bit made her look up, her eyes catching on his in the process. His gaze burned through her, making her wonder if he had caught the way her words existed to convince both of them of things left unstated.

"I told you they'd like you."

Sybil nestled into him again. Tom was holding her now, loving how she fit perfectly against him. "My accent sticks out like a sore thumb. And they don't seem to like that I want to work which is-"

Now it was Tom's turn to look down. He didn't know why but he was suddenly ashamed of his family for reacting the way they had. He was thankful though, that she had questioned it in a way that only Sybil could. She was naive to everything but the fact that there were things in this world she was unfamiliar with. "They love that you want to work. I think you won over them with that one. They're just worried."

Sybil looked up, her lips just inched away from Tom's. "Worried about what?"

"You're English, Syb."

"I am?" She feigned shock causing Tom to drop his head back and laugh.

"It's hard enough getting a job around here. It's not going to be easy for you."

"We'll make it," she whispered in determination.

Tom kissed her, finally giving her the one thing he knew would reassure her. "Of course we will. Please don't tell me you're doubting it now."

"Never," she spoke all too quickly and with much more volume than either of them had expected. "I just like to say it. So you know I trust you and I believe in us and there isn't anywhere I'd rather be."

A silence settled over them, filled with heavy sighs and stolen kisses. "I'm going to invite my parents and Edith and Mary to the wedding. I don't know if they'll come. They've never been to a wedding outside of our church. Or London, for that matter…"

"Will you be upset if they don't show?" Tom studied her, waiting for her response. He hated himself for asking already knowing he'd be heartbroken by the answer when he finally heard it hit the air.

"Of course I will. But I'll get over it. They don't matter anymore. I have everything I need right here."

She sounded so sure but Tom doubted her because he knew better and he felt the way she sighed against his shoulder. She was comfortable here and he knew she loved him but that didn't mean she didn't miss home or the life and people she had left behind. "Sybil, it's okay to be hurt by it."

"I know," she spoke softly, holding back a tear.

Tom kissed the corner of her mouth. "You're not betraying me if you say it. I'd be mad too. Hell, I am mad."

She looked up to him again, hating that she had to separate from him to do so. "You're mad? You care what they think?"

Tom shook his head with a small laugh. "I don't care what they think but I absolutely care how you feel. I don't like seeing you hurt. And I hate that it's your own family doing the hurting."

"Tom-"

"Yeah?"

"You're my family...I'm going to miss you when you move out," she said, referring to the lease they were going to sign tomorrow. She wondered if he was thinking about it as much as she had. In church, her mind wandered, hoping for a large bed and a clean kitchen, and fresh linens hung in the bathroom. She wondered if it would have an expansive window in the living room and if they'd have enough room for a table to seat more than just the two of them for when company came. She imagined it would be filled with love and that her and Tom would spend Sundays after mass curled up on the couch exploring one another. She blushed at the thought, an excitement creeping into her cheeks and then down to her toes.

"But then my Mam can't catch us on the couch each morning," Tom pointed off, causing Sybil to laugh as it was confirmed that his mind was not too far from where hers floated. She had felt bad about their behavior, but only long enough to stifle a laugh into her nightgown each morning.

She had waited nearly six years to be with him and now that she was, she couldn't bear to be pulled away. Leaving her own bed to join him on the couch was a routine now, with him no longer fighting her on the matter. Her body provided him with warmth, among other things, things his mother would be none too pleased to hear about come morning.

"Exactly," Sybil smirked, pressing her lips to his collarbone.

"Tease."

"You love me."

"I do," he said as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Lately, it was and he wondered why the words hadn't fallen off his lips earlier in their friendship.

"And it's only a month." Sybil was reminding herself just as much as she was reminding Tom. She was already counting down the days in her mind toward a goal she had set when Tom's sisters first suggested they begin wedding planning.

"A month?"

"That will be enough time to write my parents and invite them, don't you think?"

"I think so...a month then?"

"Do you think the church will have an opening?"

"The church? My church?"

Sybil kissed him on the mouth. Her boldness caused Tom to growl, pulling her toward him so that she could straddle his lap. "Our church. I told you, I want to do this," she beamed, pressing her palms to his chest.

"You're terrific." It was all he could manage and he prayed that his mother wouldn't walk by as they shared this intimate moment together. Beginning to work at such a young age, Tom had little time for romance and he knew that with Sybil's season occurring at the outset of the war that no gentlemen had come calling for her. He was thankful for both now, and the way her body fit perfectly against his as they spoke in a language only they understood. They were the teenagers he had imagined they would be if the world turned more slowly and was much less disapproving.

* * *

Not much to say. I was just in a mood to post, I guess. Let me know what you think, please and thank you!

x. Elle


	12. Never Let Me Go

**A/N:** I was asked why Elizabeth was so uptight and I just wanted to share with you the answer I gave because it will continue to come up:

_I will explain Elizabeth as both a character and a sort of symbol for a lot of Irish women during this time period. I kind of hinted at it but will continue to elaborate on her views of women working as well as her overall view of the English. As Tom said to Sybil, she is English and not everyone is going to be as receptive to that as he is. During this time, especially in Dublin, the Irish people still have an intense bitterness toward the English. The Rising left a bad taste in their mouth and with Sybil believing as both a woman and an English girl that she can get a job, it irritates a rather conservative Elizabeth. What I'm trying to do is show that Sybil will have the same troubles in Ireland that Tom faced in England. As Sybil asked Tom when they were back at Downton "will your people accept me?"...we never really got an answer to that. This is my attempt to give us that answer. But again, I will elaborate and hopefully give you some closure on that._

Also please don't hesitate to ask a question if you're confused by the history or politics I'm referencing. I'm Irish and a political science major so what I know and find interesting may seem like nonsense to you. But if it bores you, that I can't help with...sorry...

**Timeline:** Still in Dublin. Yes, these two will eventually get back to Downton but aren't they much better versions of themselves when they're allowed to be? Dublin is the metaphorical safety bubble Tom and Sybil should have lived in forever.

**Song:** _Never Let Me Go_ - Florence and the Machine

* * *

It took them exactly seven minutes to sign the lease on their new apartment. After doing so, the keys were give to their possession but it was the kiss Tom pressed to Sybil's smiling face that acted as confirmation for the whole thing. The two were as happy as they had ever been, a trend that continued and refused to wear off from its original inception just a month ago when they first arrived into the city.

Dublin was warm and inviting just so as long as Sybil said little and kept to herself. She had began to look for a job to no avail. Hospitals were staffed by men now and her English accent was off-putting to the many women that often received her applications. Her days were spent helping Tom's mother around the house, something that was more of a help to Sybil herself rather than Mrs. Branson. Helen was patient though, always feeling the urge to smile as her soon to be daughter-in-law was diligent and willing with the laundry, the cooking, and the cleaning.

Mrs. Branson was learning too, but not in the way she had expected. Sybil was a breath of fresh air in the otherwise stuffy city. Her presence in her home was not nearly as much of a hindrance as Helen had originally worried it would be. In fact, she found herself thinking she'd miss Sybil's distinctive laugh when she moved out after the wedding. Of course such a selfish thought disappeared when she saw the way her son and this young girl interacted. For as much as she wished to keep them apart until then, she knew that they had perhaps seen and done more than society, or she for that matter, would be willing to acknowledge.

On days when Sybil was not home, she spent her days at Tom's sister Elizabeth's house with Katherine. The three had gotten along well planning everything about the small wedding from the veil Sybil dreamed of to the dress she'd wear. Elizabeth often made comments that Sybil learned to brush off. The eldest Branson girl was strong willed, much like the rest of the family, but she held a conservatism undistinguished among the lot of them. She loved her husband and her children and the country she worked for. Of course, such work she believed was to be kept in the flat she kept clean for her family. When Sybil told the girls about nurse positions she had read about in the paper, Elizabeth would roll her eyes before excusing herself to pour more tea. In a way, she reminded Sybil of Mary, something that caused a throbbing in her throat as the younger girl thought of her eldest sister back at Downton.

Katherine and Elizabeth watched in amusement as Sybil budgeted her father's money to cover the cost of food, the church, and flowers. A small amount had been agreed upon by Sybil and Tom with the rest being set aside for future rent payments and any other expenses they might incur.

The girls were doubtful at first, but Sybil quickly proved that she was just as committed to this relationship as their brother was. She was in love and had no problem declaring such a notion to each florist or dressmaker she talked to. Katherine and Elizabeth would just laugh, wondering how such a girl who had grown up in such a different world had managed to give her heart in exchange for that of the same belonging to a boy from Dublin.

Everyday after work, Tom would come over and eat dinner at his mother's house. Sybil would greet him at the door, taking his jacket and hat to hang up as she followed him down the hall to ask about his day. The story he told in response was always the same but she asked nonetheless, never wanting to seem disinterested in the job he worked so hard to keep. When his mother wasn't looking she would kiss his lips and tell him how happy he was making her and how lucky she was to have such a hardworking man in her life. Tom could only smile in return, wondering how many days it was until she was legally his wife, where he could not only declare but show her just how much she meant to him.

After dinner they'd find themselves on the couch, discussing whatever suited the day with Mr. Branson. Tom was never particularly close to his father due to the older man's work schedule but he found himself suddenly enjoying the company of his father with Sybil's legs draped across his lap on the couch. Mrs. Branson only smiled at the interaction as she sewed in the corner underneath the burning light of a nearby candle.

When it got late, Sybil would walk Tom to the door. Each night they took more and more time to themselves, hoping all the while that they would not be interrupted. They never were; Mrs. Branson had given up on controlling the way they were only a week after they arrived. It was no use, and it even pained her to hinder such a tangible thing, like touching a finger to an outlet only to feel the spark of electricity seeping through.

With the wedding only a week away, Tom had invited Sybil to their apartment to see the progress he had made. His weekends, and late nights as Sybil now surmised as she looked around the space, were spent fixing the place up. The flat they had chosen was brand new but rather bare.

The last time she was here was when the two of them had moved in the table and couch his brothers and sisters had bought them as a wedding gift. Both rejected the help they were offered and spent a Saturday afternoon maneuvering both pieces of furniture into the tiny front room that acted as a kitchen, dining room and living room. It worked nicely though, with the table resting in between the kitchen and couch to differentiate the space.

Sybil smiled as the two finally collapsed against the cushions of the plush sofa, admiring their work. "This is perfect," she whispered. Tom answered by seizing her mouth, knowing no words could ever agree with her in the way that his lips could.

Now, as she stood in the middle of the room with her hands on her hips she noticed that Tom had cleaned the old icebox his aunt had given them and that a new light fixture was installed above the sink reflecting in the glass of the window that looked out onto a back alley. "Tom..." It was shock, or amusement. She wondered if he was sleeping for so much had been done since she had last seen the flat. A wave of relief washed over her, painting her cheeks in rouge. For a girl that was told she would marry for status, she somehow felt this is always what she had wanted.

"There's still so much to be done. But it's almost where it needs to be. It'll be done by next Saturday..."

Sybil placed her gloves in her hat and then dropped both items on the table. She stepped back, taking it all in again before shrugging her her coat off. Tom helped her, setting the light material on the back of a kitchen chair.

He was leaning against the stove now, staring at her small waist highlighted by the tight blouse and skirt she wore. He wondered when she would wear the pants he had bought her for her birthday after she had mentioned to him she rather enjoyed the style on young women. Her current look was flattering though and he found it difficult to peel his eyes away even as she moved to stand next to him and stir the stew on the stove.

"You made food?" she inquired, watching his forearms push at the thick liquid in the pot below.

Tom nodded, his arms crossed now as he stepped back. He was prideful in the way that most men would be afraid to be. He could provide for Sybil in so many ways and he did it all because he knew that she was trying just as hard to return the many favors he granted her. "I did invite you for dinner, love…"

"This looks delicious," she said before bringing the wooden spoon to her mouth to taste it for herself. She only smiled, tasting the carrot and lamb previously on the utensil. "It is delicious," she confirmed after swallowing the stew. "Aren't I just the worst? Leaving my husband to cook…"

She went to walk away, but Tom pulled her back in to him, not wanting such a moment to escape so easily. "You have other talents," he pointed out with a smirk. His lips were on hers, then on her chin and all the way down to the pulse point on her neck. Though she felt his mouth, hot and wet, she knew what he was referring to. It was the way she helped his mother cook dinner every night and the way she often held hands with Tom's nieces and nephews on the way home from church so their parents could have a moment or two alone.

The kisses were nice too, and growing more passionate as each day passed. Tom no longer had to initiate them as Sybil's confidence grew the more she was allowed to realize just how much she wanted him and how much she had always wanted him, for that matter. It was times like this one, usually at night, when her tongue was hungry to taste and thank him for all he had done for her. Of course he responded, doing his best to remain calm and composed as she ground her hips into him. He had told her, without ever saying a word, just how patient he was willing to be, but such sentiments fell on deaf ears.

Sybil dropped her head back, granting him all the room she could manage without allowing her own knees to crumble beneath her. The mood between them lately was intoxicating and she was suddenly thankful they were alone. Moments like these were few and far between. Sybil often found herself wondering how they had gotten away with so much back at Downton; prying eyes and social class separated what a crowded Dublin could not.

"Tom," she moaned, his hands now gripping her hips as he thrust up toward her. The action pushed her further into the counter, eliciting a purr from the lip she was now biting down on. She said nothing, but reacted by reaching behind them to turn the gas dial on the stove. Tom's eyes widened, kissing her lips again as she now jumped up to wrap her legs around his waist. The tight skirt she wore restricted them, causing her to dig her heels into his backside for support. He didn't mind; the action only pushed them toward the bedroom.

As they crossed the threshold, Tom felt Sybil's weight leave him. She looked around, her eyes darting back and forth from the lavender hue of the bathroom that she had requested to the way the bedroom, their bedroom, was nothing but rustic wood and the queen sized bed covered in the softest duvet cover she had ever seen. White and plush, also as she had imagined. Images of bare skin glittered with early morning perspiration littered her mind as she imagined the two of them sharing the most intimate of moments both atop and beneath the cotton of the comforter. Somehow a room that lacked all the luxuries her bedroom back at Downton contained seemed so warm and inviting and perfect.

"This is ours?" She said, clearly amused.

Tom laughed. He was by the door now, his foot scuffing at the floorboard as he looked at her face, so overjoyed and wide-eyed. "Tis," he said, stepping into her. "Do you like it?" His hands were around her waist now. Out of habit she leaned back into him, her head resting on the space above where his heart lay, beating for her.

She turned around, grabbing his arms so they were once again wrapped around her. "It's lovely, Tom."

"You're lovely," he whispered back. He wanted to say so much more but she cut him off, her lips tasting him as her hands reached up to stroke his neck. She loved how broad he was and the way he stood tall and strong for her. There was comfort here that stretched from the crown of her head to the tips of her feet. Sybil was certain that if she fell he would catch her: part of her knew he already had.

They met in the middle, their lips seeking the feel of soft skin upon soft skin. Sybil opened her mouth, feeling a sigh of pleasure escape her pouted mouth as Tom grabbed her cheeks. He was nibbling at her bottom lip, something that was only soothed when his tongue slid past her lips to duel with her own. It was then that Sybil felt it, a burning in her body, telling her that this was right and this was good.

"I want you, Tom," she finally managed through ragged breathing. Her lips separated from his in a slow pull, causing both of them to crave more.

He shook his head, doing his best to maintain control of the situation. Still, he knew she saw what he was feeling, the way he hardened against her hip as their bodies pushed against one another in need. "Syb, we-"

She stepped back. Her fingers were playing with the buttons at the top of her blouse. She had begun to toy with the delicate pearls that latched each half to the other but with the material still tucked in to the top of her skirt, it remained closed. He could see it though, the top of her chemise and the way freckles lined the area leading below where the silk covered her heaving breasts. "I don't care. I want you, Tom. I have wanted you for a long, long time now-" It was an invitation, one her body murmured into his as he reached out for her.

Tom hated to admit it, but a certain kind of lust was beginning to occupy his thoughts causing his head to spin. Be cut her off, placing a slow burning kiss to her swollen lips. She smiled, dropping her head back to laugh as he slipped a hand under her blouse to finally touch her in the way they both needed. He felt her nipple harden beneath his hand as he palmed her breast through the silk chemise she wore.

It had been so long since he had last been here and yet it was new territory. Tom never knew it could be this charged when there were feelings behind the words he spoke and the actions he performed. Not wanting to think about the past, he instead focused on her breathing and the way she sighed into his neck. He felt her stiffen as another set of goosebumps ran up the expanse of her chest. Tom vowed to take it slow, whatever this was, as she gave in to something her body was whispering to him that she had wanted for the longest time.

Sybil stepped back, bringing Tom with her. Both of hands were now moving deliciously against her chest. His movements had pushed her blouse open revealing the teddy she wore. It was simple, but the sight of it sent jolts down to his groin. Sybil felt him still pressed into her hip. She blushed, loving that she was the cause of such a beautiful thing. There was power here, power that Sybil was all too proud to cherish. She grew up in a household where such thoughts were never discussed and because of that, learned to be rather shameful. Sybil couldn't manage her lips to say such a word, much less feel it, as his body reacted to hers.

Tom felt it too and wanted nothing more than to continue. Patiently, he took his time, pressing chaste kisses to her earlobe and the expanse of her neck. He was kissing the valley between her breasts as they fell back against the bed. Sybil's hand had found him through the light material of his trousers, palming him in her tiny hand. Her eyes widened at his size, suddenly causing her to feel as inexperienced as she was. Kissing the nerves away, Tom sighed into Sybil's neck, eliciting a delicious moan from her lips as she began to relax.

Sybil's hands were making quick work of the shirt Tom wore, undoing every last button before pushing the material off his shoulders. She marveled at the way his arms and specifically his shoulders were covered in freckles. Sybil kissed his skin as her hands found their way under his undershirt to the muscles of his stomach. He growled as her fingertips brushed against the tufts of hair leading down to his now rock hard member. She was bold now, teasing him as she grabbed his length through the underwear he wore. Her actions were not as timid as they previously had been. Sybil applied pressure, loving the feeling of him throbbing in her palm. As inexperienced as she was, the way he bucked in her hand was enough for him to stroke him, up and down, slowly and sensually, causing Tom's eyes to temporarily roll back into his head.

He was warm in her hand, even through the light material of his pants. Sybil did her best to restrain the thoughts she was having, imagining herself doing so much more than teasing him through boundaries she so desperately wanted to be rid of. Tom could only respond by dropping his head back as he hovered above her. He breathed against her neck, doing his best to not crush her with his weight as he felt her fingers leave him and grab for his face to bring him back to her. He was thankful for that, both smiling into one another's mouths now. This was daring and she was so beautiful like this, her hair frizzed and messy and coming undone the more he played with it.

"I love you," he said, pressing a kiss to the space behind her ear. It was as honest and as beautiful as the moment they were lost in.

Tom was shirtless now and he wondered when she had pulled his undershirt over his head. It must have been around the same time his own hands were pulling the zipper at her hip down.

"Wait," she whispered, stilling his hand with her own. He rolled over to watch her stand. Tom couldn't take his eyes off of her and he wondered if she was trying as hard as he imagined she was to look as effortless as she did. He quickly forgot about all of that as she was now barefoot, standing before him in just her silk chemise. It was connected to the black stockings she wore held up by the sexiest garter he had ever seen. Hell, it was the only garter he had ever seen but he vowed then to only remember her like this and to do his best when they were in public to not want her in this state.

Sybil was blushing, her entire skin bright pink as she was suddenly self-conscious of the way she must have looked. Tom was her first everything and now he was the first and last man that would ever see her like this. It was exciting and terrifying and all she had ever hoped for. There was something addictive about the way he looked at her, his eyes wanting nothing more than to love every inch of woman she was.

When Sybil finally looked up, she saw the way his eyes glazed over her, taking every inch of skin and curve in. Her hair framed her hairline, spreading like a halo that she tried to wear so well. Even with their actions, she was innocent and their kisses were seemingly chaste, contrasting with the thoughts they both held in their long term memory from moments past. She smiled, crawling toward him now so that she was straddling him against the headboard of the bed she had to remind herself was all their own.

Sybil was kneeling now. She kissed him, hoping that his shut eyes would bring comfort to a girl like her in such a position. They did and so did the words he then moaned into her cheek as she stroked him again, this time unbuttoning his trousers to do so.

"You're wonderful," he whispered. "So perfect." And then, "mo anam cara," which elicited a wide smile from Sybil in the way words she actually understood were unable to. She vowed to ask him, when her mind wasn't running wild with possibilities, what he had meant. Unable to stop herself and inquire, Sybil kissed down his chest, pulling the belt he wore out of it's loops before removing his pants and socks completely.

"Sybil, darling, maybe we should-"

"Tom, please don't tell me you want to stop now." Her eyes were honest and lustfilled, clouded over by the heat she felt coursing through her veins. "It has taken me all I have to be with you like this," she choked out. There was fear there, but also determination. It was clear that it had taken everything in her to say such a thing and it made her all the more beautiful to him.

He kissed away her words. "No, love. I just, if we don't stop I'm not going to be able to-"

"We have all night," she reminded him, catching him completely off guard. It was the answer he wanted but was not quite ready to receive. "This feels right, doesn't it?" Her lips made a decision her heart had settled on many nights ago. Kissing her back, Tom tasted the determination on her lips.

His hand was cupping her cheek and he stroked at her ear, using the leverage he had to pull her face down to his again. With their foreheads touching, he chastely kissed the corner of her mouth. "I love you. I wanted this to be perfect for you and I don't want you to regret anything, okay?"

Sybil sighed. "I'm not going to regret this. I just need you to tell me what feels good, alright?"

"God Syb, it all feels good," he moaned, his head dropped back as she pulled him out of his underwear.

With him in her hand, she did all she could think to do; kiss him here just as she had the rest of his now naked body. He jerked in response causing Sybil to giggle. Quickly, she was serious again, and committed, as she bent down again, licking at his tip then all the way down the shaft. Again, he responded, his cock jerking in her hand as she teased the base of him.

Tom's head was still dipped back, but he mustered enough control to look down to her, his beautiful fiance with her head now bobbing down as she invited his length into her mouth again and again. He moaned, coming so close to releasing but holding on with all he had. He had never been with another woman like this, but dear god were her lips perfect and this view of her, her dark hair curling at the nape of her neck as it came loose from her braid was enough to send him over the edge.

"Sybil, love, I'm going to-" he somehow managed through the pressure building in his lower abdomen.

She released him from her mouth with a small pucker. She only smiled, licking at his head again before milking him to a steady climax. Tom had lost his ability to admire her as his body tensed and then released. She swallowed his seed, not thinking twice. She could only smile and she felt proud and dare she say sexy with the way she had just handled him. Such a bold move had hardened Tom immediately. Just as quickly as his cock softened in her hands he was hard again, earning the tip of his cock a stroke as Sybil kissed him there again.

Still in ecstasy, Tom brought her up to him, immediately pulling her in for a fiery kiss. He wanted to say something but his mind was still reeling. His hands itched too; Tom yearned to tease the thick straps of her camisole off her shoulders. His hands, large and calloused, instead fell down her sides to her garters, unhinging each strap wishing he could do the same with the straps above. Instead, she sighed, watching his eyes so full of love as he pulled the silk material up over her head, leaving her in nothing but knickers and the stockings she wore.

She wanted to cover herself, but his words stopped her. "Dear god, you are stunning," he muttered, immediately taking a pert nipple into his mouth as his hand caressed the other. She was grinding up against him now, reveling in the feeling of him so close and so in want of the woman she was. Sybil had to stop herself from smiling long enough to kiss his neck, lapping at the taut skin of his collarbone before returning her attention to his lips.

They were both lost now, so close to a place either had yet to ever reach. Sybil knew what she was about to do but had no idea how to go about doing it. Immediately, and for a reason she was unaware of, she thought back to Downton and the place that had brought them together and separated them all the same. It appeared to her in flashes, ending with her opening her eyes to see him laying below her, gazing up at her with a look she wasn't aware she craved until now.

Their tongues now in a slow dance, his hand had snaked down to her center, cupping her through the lace of her cream knickers. She bucked into his hand, encouraging him to discard the material before she grew impatient and did it herself. Tom laughed, holding onto his fiance as he turned her over, switching their positions so she was now on the bed, her loose hair fanned out behind her as he kissed his way down her stomach.

Sybil pressed a gentle hand into the top of his head, urging him lower. He obliged, painfully teasing each stocking down her slender legs. Next came her knickers, his fingers slowly removing them finally leaving them both with no fabric or pretense to separate them.

Sybil smiled through the kisses they shared, suddenly feeling as comfortable as she ever had with Tom. She reached down, separating them as her hand took his member in her hand and teased her center with the tip.

"Fuck," he muttered. Sybil smiled, her eyes widened as Tom grew even harder in her hand after the word she had never heard him utter slipped from his lips. He loved how he didn't have to ask her if she was ready. Her swollen lips and heaving chest was enough to urge him on. Pre-cum oozed from the head of his cock and she suddenly wished to pleasure him again. She sighed, knowing what was next. Hopelessly, she wanted him, even as her body tensed up in anticipation.

"You okay, love?" He softened, kissing her chin as he settled into the space next to her.

Sybil could only nod. "Go slow, okay?"

Tom's face dropped. Secretly, although parts of him hated this thought, he loved how timid and naive she was. It was one of the many reasons he first fell in love with and continued to adore everything about her. "Sybil, we can still stop, I-"

"No!," she shouted, almost too quickly. Realizing her obvious innocence, she corrected herself: "No, I want this. And I want this with you. I trust you..."

"I'm not going to hurt you, love," he promised, dropping another kiss to her temple. He would taste her forever if that's what it took.

As a shiver sent shock waves down her spine, Sybil nestled further into Tom, using him for the strength she was currently lacking. She wasn't scared and she did trust him. There was something so exciting about such a foreign concept to a Lady who grew up in a house where such things were never discussed.

She smiled up at him. She touched a palm to his cheek. "I trust you," she whispered, like a mantra to convince both him and her. Never before had words been so honest.

There was silence interrupted by the rustling of sheets below them. Tom was hovering now, resting on his elbows so as not to crush her. He kissed her forehead and then her lips as the tip of his cock pushed at her center. She cried out, getting used to the feeling of something so foreign and yet so beautiful filling her completely. It was a feeling she would find herself craving long after they separated.

He was slow and deliberate and ever so loving. There was no pain, but a minimal sting that lasted the time it took Tom to kiss away one tear. Once he was inside of her, he stopped, but Sybil nodded, encouraging his behavior. She wanted him like this forever, something that was only confirmed as he began to rock against her body, urging her to do the same. She obliged, needing little coaxing as he pleasured her.

Sybil felt it, a burning in her lower abdomen that made her want to cry out. Perhaps she had. She dug her heels into his backside now, mimicking the actions performed earlier when layers of clothing separated them. He smiled into her neck, muttering words she never wanted to forget. Somehow they meant so much more coming from him as they were connecting in such a way.

"Tom, yessss," she moaned, as the burning rose and then subsided again like breathing on an otherwise calm fire. "God, Tom!"

"I love you," he muttered in return. "So damn beautiful." He was close too, evident by a tingling in his bollocks. It was made worse as Sybil reached down between them to pleasure him there. It took everything in Tom to hold on to the last bit of control he contained. Thankfully, such a notion was fleeting, as he felt Sybil proclaim how close she was.

"Right there, love-" But she was unable to continue. Her body tensed just as his did, the two meeting a rather loud climax together.

With nothing but uneven breaths to fill the air, Sybil breathed out deeply, feeling Tom fill her in a way they had both craved. She felt complete, as if such a thing was all she had ever needed. In a way it was, something she was reminded of as Tom kissed her in appreciation. It was as comforting as the warmth she felt now seeping from her core. Something that should have made her feel shameful, sex before marriage with no intention of procreation, brought her such a comforting feeling. Tom felt it too, pressing a kiss to her wet lips. It tasted like love and all of the other things they were currently feeling.

Sybil smiled into his shoulder, not yet wanting them to separate. She felt weak, but her breathing was strong, encouraged by his arms wrapping around her and pulling her on top of him. They laid like this for quite some time needing no words to express just how happy they both were.

Finally, she spoke, a simple "I love you so much, Tom," pressed into his neck as she breathed him in. He whispered back something similar, neither wanting to move and ruin the moment. They didn't. The beating of their hearts had lulled them into a slumber with their exhaustion keeping them connected. She was content here and she never wanted to leave.

"I have something for you," Tom whispered, now in a position where he could kiss the top of Sybil's head. She was laying with her head resting on his chest while she drew circles on his stomach with the tip of her finger. Her stomach throbbed, feeling brand new as she found herself wanting him again and again.

Sybil looked up, watching Tom reach underneath the bed, bringing back with him a small box wrapped in simple brown paper and twine.

"A gift?"

"Not a gift, not really. Something I should have given you a long time ago had I the money for it…"

Sybil didn't need to open the box to know what was inside. Suddenly her fingers itched and she shook as she slowly revealed the green velvet box underneath the paper. Inside was a simple yet stunning engagement ring with a row of small diamonds along the outer band.

"Tom, it's-"

"I hope you-"

She placed a finger to his lips, stopping his words from repairing something that was not broken. "It's beautiful and perfect and you're perfect and I love it...and I love you."

She reached up, stroking his cheek before kissing him full on the mouth. He deepened it, allowing Sybil to straddle him again as she began to kiss down his chest. The ring he helped her slide onto her left hand shone under the dim light of the candle on the far dresser.

After a night of similar ministrations, Sybil found herself walking into Tom's parent's home with him trailing quietly behind. The morning was dawning, and they felt her, Mrs. Branson, watching them from her place at the stove tending to the kettle. Sybil smiled her way, never wanting to disrespect the woman she would soon call her mother-in-law but not once regretting the way she had allowed Tom to love her the night before.

Of course she had loved him back, her cheeks blushing as she was reminded of how he moved against her while she did nothing but urge him on. He kissed her, not allowing her to deepen the kiss in the way they both wanted. Sybil could only laugh, watching him go into the kitchen to help his mother prepare the beginnings of their usual Sunday brunch. He muttered something to her about both of them falling asleep after dinner and Sybil could imagine Tom with his hand in the air as if to swat away the question. If she remembered correctly, they didn't sleep at all, and she enjoyed it just the same.

She pressed the tips of her glove covered hand to her lips, not wanting the laugh she felt growing in her chest to escape. Like a little girl, or the little girl she used to be before last night, she smiled, then chuckled, feeling euphoric as she remembered it all, so slow and deliberate.

* * *

I'm a little hesitant posting this. I appreciate everyone who reads and follows both my stories and me as an author but it's a little discouraging when I get almost 4,000 hits and only two reviews. Needless to say, I don't know what that means. Did you hate it? Did you like it? It just leaves me a bit confused. If you feel so compelled, let me know what you're thinking of the chapter or if you have a question. I love to talk to my readers and see what they're thinking.

Thanks for reading!

x. Elle


	13. Crazy For You

**A/N:** Don't forget! This story is now Rated MATURE. But please do not think that is all it has turned in to. I still love my plot and dialogue and I would never sacrifice that for smut.

**Timeline:** From Dublin, with love.

**Song:** _Crazy For You_ - Best Coast

* * *

Sybil sighed, throwing down her bag before heading into the kitchen to begin preparing the stove for the dinner she was about to make. She had just attended her third interview at a hospital in the nearby town of Malahide and escaped it being short of only a few pennies for train fair. They would write to her, much like the other two hospitals had, telling her how promising her application looked but quickly rejecting her after hearing her accent and looking at the references she provided. Sybil was not Irish, but this place, the apartment she arrived at every night was home.

Tom, the man she was falling more and more in love with, made sure of it. In kind, she payed him back by perfecting the few dishes she had learned to prepare while back at Downton. She was getting rather good too, though she doubted each step of the recipes Mrs. Patmore had so willingly scribbled down for her before her departure. Tom assured her with a kiss to the temple as she stood at the stove stirring a stew or waiting for a small roast to be done with her hand on her hip resting where her apron was tied snugly around her waist.

"Tom?" She called out, surprised to see a candle lit from inside their bedroom. She followed the light, setting her eyes immediately on her almost-husband sitting on the bed in just his work trousers and an undershirt. He was wearing his glasses and Sybil smiled, remembering the first time she saw him put them on. She was turned on then, expressing nothing but a smile in place of the kisses she wanted to smother him with.

"Hi," she whispered, using the doorjamb, which was still without a proper door, to support her. She leant against it, pressing her hat-covered head into the cold wood. She was sure she would have collapsed had he not been looking at her with such concern.

"What's wrong, love?" He went to stand, placing the papers he was working on on the bed next to where he was sitting. Tom reached out for her, pulling her body into his as he hugged her, and kissed her hairline. She said nothing, provoking Tom to speak again. "I got paid today. I guess that's good timing, right?"

"This isn't funny, Tom." Sybil pushed past him, walking under Tom's arm to sit on the edge of their bed. It wasn't that she wasn't enjoying the warmth he was providing her, but rather that she was afraid that he would always be supporting her in this way and others. She had left Downton to ensure that she could be independent and in love. She had conquered love rather easily but her financial independence was something of an Achilles heel. Tom's job did not offer a constant wage, something that both shocked and saddened her. He worked awfully hard to receive inconsistent pay every other week or so. They had not received income for the past two weeks and as a result had eaten almost every meal at Tom's parents house with their heads hung low in shame.

He was sitting next to her now, grabbing her hand to hold it in his lap. Sybil gave in, wanting nothing more than to collapse against the bed they both rested on. She was tired and every part of her ached. "I'm sorry," she muttered. "I just-we need money, Tom."

"They really liked my article and they-" He paused, as if thinking about how to phrase what he wanted to say. Instead, he changed his thought pattern. "Never mind. It's a fair deal and if I finish this next article we'll have more to put away. I'm doing well..." he finished.

Sybil touched a hand to his cheek. "I'm proud of you, love."

Tom moved to kiss the inside of her palm. "Want to go out?"

Sybil brightened, then quickly fell as if she had been defeated. "Tom, we can't, we barely have enough money to-"

"No, I'm serious, Syb...there's plenty of money in the bank right now. And I took some out to buy us dinner anyway. What if we go to the pub and grab a bite and then go dancing?"

"Like a date?"

Tom nodded. "Like a date. Our first date, if I do remember correctly."

"I'd be fine staying here...with you."

Now it was Tom's turn to smile. "Yeah, but my mom is getting awfully upset with you falling asleep here so much. I promised her I'd have you home tonight. Just a few drinks. It'll calm you down."

"But you don't even drink."

"All Irishmen drink, Sybil," he commented causing both of them to laugh. "But you're right, I really don't. I don't really have the taste for it. But that doesn't mean it's not something to do. I promise to take care of you...you need a night to enjoy yourself."

"Right…"

Tom lifted her chin with his forefinger and thumb. He kissed the corner of her mouth before bringing her to her feet. "C'mon!"

"Tom Branson, you are crazy."

"About you? Yes, I am." A beat and then: "Do you trust me?"

She only nodded, grabbing her bag off the counter where she had set it down. She watched him dress back into his shirt from the day before allowing him to lead her out of their now dark flat.

Tom brought them both to Mulligan's, a favorite of the teenager he used to be. Sybil was right, he didn't drink often, but he used to enjoy a pint the way all of his brothers did, if only to fit in and have something to do after working hours on the farm. The bar itself was crowded, but the back room was dark and quiet. Sybil and Tom pushed into a booth in the corner, giggling as they did so, causing the pitcher of ale Tom was holding to spill over onto the floor and the table.

Sybil had relaxed considerably since they had left their flat. The cool air had invited them down the street as she relayed to Tom all the ills of her day. He listened in only the way that he could and she was reminded of the strength their relationship held because they were friends first and lovers second. There was respect here, seen still as Sybil snuggled into Tom and continued to complain to him about her lack of a job.

"I just feel bad, Tom. We promised to help each other out and I can't find a job. We can't survive on your wages…"

"We'll be fine though, alright? I'm not going to let us starve or lose the flat. We're doing better than you'd think. And we've barely touched your money from your father."

"We can though, you know. I could pay for tonight and-"

"I'm not letting you pay," he said, cutting her off. "That is your money and we should save it for when we're married and you're pregnant and-" He stopped himself, suddenly thinking such wonderful things. "We're fine, alright love? Plus, this is our first date. I invited you out so I am paying."

"So much for women's rights," she quipped. This earned Sybil a smattering of kisses up and down the side of her face as Tom pulled her close. She laughed into him, knowing that this was the end of her apology. He didn't need her words; their love was enough.

Tom poured the last of the pitcher equally into their glasses. Sybil's laugh, the same one he loved so much, had grown more hoarse and if possible, had also gained a considerable amount of volume. It was no concern to him as the pub itself had grown even more crowded after they received and finished their dinners. Now, the two sat laughing about the people at Tom's office and an incident they had had at the farmer's market the past weekend when Tom was first showing Sybil how to purchase groceries properly.

It was easy like this, lost in a crowd where she was not English and he was not the same man that used to drive her around in her father's car. They didn't have to explain themselves here and the thought was both comforting and exhilarating. It was this same thought that had pushed them onto the wooden dance floor with the encouragement still left over from the alcohol they had just consumed.

As they continued to dance, Tom stopped drinking, ordering himself cider while Sybil insisted on another shot of whiskey. He had never seen her like this, so free and inhibited, but he welcomed her mood as he saw how playful she was after a few drinks. He was glad that she had finally let go, and he was sure that she would not feel or remember much of this in the morning.

"Please tell me you don't think me a lush," she said, whispering into Tom's ear.

He pulled his head away from her, smiling the question away. "Never."

"I must look awfully silly." She was giggling again, a habit he had found she picked up when her mind was hazed over by the perfect mix of Bushmills and O'Haras.

Tom had no answer. Her lips were swollen, but not from the kisses they shared. They were red too, matching the shade she wore on her cheeks. She smiled more and it made him smile back, pulling her into him as she nuzzled her head into his shoulder.

They danced until the pub almost cleared, with nothing but a few elderly locals still sitting at the bar. The smoke previously in the air had cleared, matching the air outside as they left the establishment and headed for Tom's parent's home.

On the way, Tom grabbed for the small box hiding in his back pocket. Sybil looked at it through her glossy eyes, sure that even if she was sober she would have not recognized its contents familiar contents.

"Give it here," she ordered, grabbing the pack of cigarettes and the sleeve of matches Tom was holding.

He sighed, handing it over. What happened next, however, took him completely by surprise. Sybil retrieved a fag from the pack and then lit the cigarette she had immediately placed between her lips. She breathed in deeply as the match took, causing smoke to fill her mouth and lungs. Tom could only stare, thinking to himself how sexy it was that this girl, his girl, was smoking a cigarette.

She pulled the stick from between her lips, passing it back to Tom. "Some of the girls in York smoked," she commented. "I never tried it but I wanted to."

"Consensus?" With an arched eyebrow, Tom waited for her answer as he took a hit off the fag.

Sybil smiled. She wasn't walking straight and she knew that. She could feel the uneven cobblestone beneath her feet as Tom tightened the grip around her waist with his free hand. "I think you look much more dashing smoking them…" She was teasing now and Tom was sure he would never make it home.

They said nothing more on the matter. When Tom had finished his cigarette he rubbed the ashy paper on the bottom of his boot and then through the bud into the bushes near his mother's house. With his arm still firmly holding Sybil up, he dragged them up the steps toward his parent's apartment. Tom did his best not to make noise as he retrieved the keys from Sybil's handbag. She kissed at his neck, ignoring the mission at hand. Her drunken mind must have forced her to forget to remember that they were now entering his mother's house and that she was anything but decent in this state.

Inside, Tom thanked the fact that he knew the layout of the flat well. He directed Sybil into her temporary bedroom and helped her to sit on the bed. She layed back immediately after lazily getting out of her coat. The light material hit the floor with a silent thud as she snuggled into the pillow behind her head.

"Sybil, you can't sleep like this, love." He closed the armoire on the far side of the room. "Here's your nightgown. I'll go wait in the living room and then help you get settled when you're done, alright?"

Sybil said nothing. Instead, she quickly unbuttoned her blouse and shimmied out of her skirt leaving Tom with no option other than to break his promise and stare. Sitting on her bed in her chemise and stockings, his mouth once again went dry as she removed her chemise, exposing her bare chest before she slipped on the lace nightgown Tom had just handed her.

"Syb…"

It was her turn to be silent. She layed back, stroking the empty space of bed next to her. Tom sat down, unsure of what else to do.

"Love, you need to sleep. Can I get you anything?"

"Take off my stockings please?" She pouted her lip causing Tom to laugh to himself. He wanted to resist, unsure of whether she would have asked him such a thing had she not been so gone. They had not fully been together since the night nearly a week ago and Tom wondered if this was an attempt to transport them back to that place.

He didn't know why, but he was unable to think better of it. He removed her stockings, causing her to purr as he did so. She smiled down at him, watching as his hands caressed her legs in the process. "Syb, we should-"

"I want you, Tom," she whispered, grabbing at the back of his neck as she pulled him down to her.

Tom could only respond by kissing her back with as much enthusiasm as she had offered him. He could feel her beneath him, her hard nipples rubbing at the thin shirt he wore through the lace of her nightgown. He was growing hard and he was sure she could feel him too. Not here, he thought, and definitely not like this.

"Sybil, we have to stop." His mind was fuzzy even with his buzz subsiding. "Do you want some water, Syb?"

She nodded. She couldn't be angry; Sybil had little room for any emotion other than bliss. She was smiling when he left the room as she reached for the blanket at the bottom of the bed and pulled it up over her curled form. She closed her eyes, allowing Tom to slowly shut the door behind him as he walked into the kitchen.

"Where were you two?"

Tom stopped, turning to face his mother in her robe standing at the door leading up to the second floor. "We-"

"Tommy, you really need to stop with all of this. I let her stay here because I am sure her family would not be too pleased with her living with you before the lot of you were married but she's barely here anymore. I like Sybil, I do, but you need to understand that you're both young. I know you've known each other for quite some time but I advise you to take it all slow. Just because you're away from the place now doesn't mean you have to jump into all of this."

"Mom, we-"

"And babies are expensive. Figure each other out and figure out the finances and the flat. The wedding is this Saturday...feel free to wreak as much havoc as you'd like when it's all over."

Tom looked up from the floor. "You're right."

"I don't want to be right. I just don't want you taking advantage of that girl. And I don't want this to be over before it's even started. And I know you'll say I wasn't there and you'd be right about that but I do remember what it's like to be your age. I was in love once."

Tom wanted to ask her about the tense of her words. He had always thought his mother was still in love with his father and he wondered if this was a typical thing, to love someone someday and then not the next. He was sure, however, that he would never stop loving Sybil, not even if she ever stopped loving him. The latter was quickly discarded for being so unlikely.

"I'm going to leave soon," he offered. "I just need to give her this water...do you have any aspirin?"

Helen sighed, crossing her arms. "Tom...you didn't." She was stern now, fighting the innate feeling of concern bubbling in her stomach.

"We only went to Mulligan's for a few drinks. We shared a pint," he lied. "She never drank at home." He sighed, his voice suddenly gaining momentum. "She's entitled to a little bit of fun, Mam! And we are adults!"

Helen could only nod. "There's aspirin in the pantry." Tom walked to the pantry but was once again stopped by his mother's voice. "Stay with that girl, tonight. You are a stupid boy, Tommy but she loves you and I'd hate for her to get sick alone…"

"Thanks, Ma."

After grabbing two of the water soluble tablets from the pantry, he walked back into the bedroom to find Sybil sleeping soundly. Not wanting to wake her, he quietly rid himself of his vest and shoes but left on his trousers and undershirt out of respect for his mother. Sleeping was uncomfortable, but when he awoke the next morning, Sybil was nestled into his side, staring up at him so she could watch him sleep. Her head was resting on Tom's chest, a favorite position of hers, and it rose and fell with each breath he took.

"Morning," he whispered. "How are you feeling?"

"Awful," Sybil remarked, earning a kiss to the temple from Tom. She smiled into that, wincing as she suddenly felt pain in her head. "How much did I drink?"

"Enough," he commented. "Do you remember any of it?"

"I remember you bringing me home and then stopping me from shagging you on this bed," she remarked, her cheeks suddenly flushing as she looked down.

"Sybil, I'm sorry-"

"You're sorry? I'm sorry. You must think me a harlot."

Tom could only laugh. "Of course not. And you must know that it was hard for me to say no last night, even in your state."

"Are you teasing?" Sybil quirked an eyebrow.

Tom kissed the corner of her mouth. Sybil closed her eyes to enjoy the moment. Her lips tingled thereafter forcing her to almost forget what it was he was kissing away in the first place. "I'm not teasing, just telling the truth." Tom breathed in deeply, as if gathering courage. "I still want you, Sybil. I'm always wanting you."

* * *

I got my LSAT scores back so we're going out to celebrate (even though I'm no longer going to Law School...go me!). Today was supposed to be a day off from the internet but as usual, I haven't been able to stay away for too long. Also, you guys gave me great reviews so I figured I owed you a chapter. Tell me what you think! Thanks, as usual, for taking time to read!

x. Elle


	14. I Will Follow You Into The Dark

**A/N:** Serious question that I'm sure all of you can answer and then politely tell me I'm not stupid. Almost everyone I've ever introduced to Downton Abbey (and there have been quite a few, poor things…) have always asked during Mary's wedding or the Anna/Bates prayer scene if the family was Protestant. And without knowing the answer (it's never actually said, is it?) I always want to shout "They're Anglican!" when really, if it's never stated, that's just a generalization that could be completely false on my part. But...um...they are Anglican, right? And High Anglican at that, correct? *confused*

This, by the way, really has no baring on this chapter (though it is related in a way) or any other that I plan on writing. I just figured this was a good medium to pose such a question.

**Timeline:** Dublin. I'm just going to stop saying it at this point...

**Song:** _I Will Follow You Into The Dark -_ Death Cab For Cutie

* * *

The house that morning was full of life and energy, and most importantly, love. Sybil was surprised to hear that she and Tom were allowed to eat breakfast together, much less see each other in passing while she, with her hair freshly washed and up in some sort of cap, smiled at him in his simple trousers and lightweight shirt.

It was September, and both the bride and the groom as well as the rest of the family were praying it would not rain. Every time a stressed out Helen muttered something about the clouds above, Sybil would just laugh back, ensuring her mother in law that they would get married regardless or that it was fitting for such clouds to be hanging over her and Tom's relationship.

Everything was planned as it had been for some weeks now but Helen and Katherine insisted that everyone be up early for a family breakfast before heading off to their respective places to begin getting ready.

Seated at the long table in the dining room, they had just finished praying when Sybil, along with the rest of the Branson family, heard a knock, then one more, at the door on the other end of the flat. Sybil looked up slowly, putting the pieces together as she did so. It was she who jumped up and ran to the door only for the rest of the family to hear laughter and excitement as they continued to eat.

Tom excused himself, following the voices he recognized all too well.

"Tom!" Sybil yelped at seeing him walk toward them. "Mary and Edith are here. And Anna too!" His fiance exclaimed, hugging her former housemaid with all of the happiness she could muster.

"Lady Mary," Tom said with a nod, knowing he should address her first. "Lady Edith," another nod. "And Anna," he said, giving her a nod and a smile. Anna touched his arm as she smiled back. She had often challenged the chauffeurs political ideals but they had a similar respect for one another and she rather enjoyed his company in the servants quarters, even after she went with the ladies to Gretna Green. If Tom remembered correctly, she was particularly nice the following morning as he walked around feeling broken and empty, wondering where to go next.

Mary stepped into him. "Please Tom, it's Mary." He could tell that such an offer was difficult for her, but he saw the way she continued to smile at her baby sister. It didn't take much to remind Tom that they were here for Sybil but a part of him swelled with pride as he realized that what was hers would soon be his.

Edith tore her eyes off of the drab wallpaper barely highlighted in the dim hallway long enough to speak. "Edith, will do as well."

"Oh, it's so good to have all of you here!" Sybil beamed. "How long are you staying?"

"Only the night. We leave on the first boat out tomorrow morning."

"I'm sorry we didn't write, darling. We got the notice about the wedding rather late and weren't sure if a reply would even make it here in time. You know how post from here to there is," she said with a wave of the wrist. "But we found the apartment quickly from the address you left with Papa."

"Right, well we're eating breakfast-"

Mary's eyes widened, horrified that she had interrupted something. Part of her had forgotten that the world was not running on the same schedule she was used to. Growing up on an estate could do that to a sheltered young girl. Mary wondered if the shock hit Sybil once as hard as it was hitting her now. "Darling, it's 6 o'clock in the-"

"We like to eat early. And with the wedding…"

"Well should we come back?"

Sybil shook her head as if to quietly say "no". She grabbed Mary's hand, leaving Edith and Anna to be ushered down the hallway after Tom shut the door behind them. Tom kept his head hung and his hands in his pockets, unsure of how to react to these women who he used to work for. Sybil was radiant though and he was happy for her, something he told her as she got them each a plate and invited them to breakfast.

After introductions, it took the Branson's time to get used to these three women. Anna insisted that she would standby and not join them for breakfast but Sybil and Mary quickly insisted she get herself a plate. Helen liked this, enjoying Sybil's eldest sister despite what Tom had mentioned about her.

It wasn't that Tom didn't like Mary. In fact, he liked her more than Edith who was much too quiet for his taste. Mary was, after all, Sybil's closest allie in the house and for reasons he was untuned to, the eldest of the Crawley girl's was protective and loving and even motherly with her baby sister. He was sure that as their marriage continued, the two of them would begin to see eye to eye. Mary was as passionate about her place in society as Tom was about eradicating it.

Edith was quiet inside and out and Helen noticed how Sybil and Mary both shied away from her, out of habit and not out of disrespect. Anna entertained Edith, the two of them talking to Mr. Branson as Mary and Sybil caught up with Tom and his mother listening nearby.

"How is Matthew?"

Mary smiled. "He's doing well all things considered. He thinks…" She stopped herself. "Well it doesn't matter what he thinks, really."

"And the two of you?"

"Sybil, darling, really. Need you ask?" She sat forward, lips pursed as she folded a napkin on her lap.

Sybil could only laugh. She continued to eat her toast, ignoring her sister's chiding, no matter how much she missed it.

The day Tom had asked Sybil about Matthew and Mary was long gone but he remembered the conversations after where Sybil was all too willing to open up to him as if failing to do so would result in her losing him. She told him about their on and off again relationship and he shared with her the conversations he always swore he had tried not to hear. Sybil would smile it off with him, both of them happy that they could meet on common ground by sharing information. Between the two of them, they were the most informed at Downton and they often joked about what could be done with such a power.

Edith had cleared her plate and was currently thanking Mrs. Branson for the lovely meal. This, of course, earned an eye roll from Mary. "How far is the church?"

"Only a few blocks. It is really the most beautiful little church and the garden's surrounding it are lovely."

"And it's a Catholic church?" Mary inquired.

"Mary!" Edith spat. She corrected her sister, wanting to appear polite; it was as if the same thought hadn't occurred to her moments earlier.

"She's fine, Edith. Yes, it's a Catholic church. I know, Papa will have a fit and-"

Mary sipped at her tea, trying to swallow the liquid down. "Forget Papa. If he had something to say he'd be here, but he's not so never mind what he thinks."

"I think him not being here is him saying enough."

Mary realized she had upset her sister and quickly pressed a kiss to her cheek. Sybil smiled into it, with her mouth tight lipped and tense. "May I help clean up?"

Helen smiled back. "That really won't be necessary, dear. I'm actually going to leave this for Mr. Branson and you and the girls and I can all begin to get our Sybil ready."

Mary could only smile. She looked back over her shoulder to where Tom was whispering something at Sybil, causing the young girl to smile. He was clearly bringing her back, reminding her that her parents loved her. Sybil was nodding, as if accepting his every word if only to shut him up.

It wasn't that she wasn't comforted by Tom, because she was. Sybil just wanted to stop thinking about the way her sisters were here and her parents and grandmother were not. It was unacceptable and she was sure Helen would agree. The latter thought made her hate them even more. Mrs. Branson was lovely and had been so fair and accommodating, but she wasn't her mother. Sybil needed her own mother and father here the way that all little girls do when going through such a big event in their lives.

Upstairs now, Anna had already begun to fiddle with Sybil's hair. In all honesty, she had always liked the way the youngest of the Crawley sisters had messy curls while her two older sisters were left with straight hair. Anna remembered when Sybil was a child and Cora insisted her hair be pulled back if only to tame the frizz. By the end of the day, a young Sybil, after hours spent in the gardens or the stable, would have her hair hanging free down her back. Cora gave up quickly, knowing that even then she was untamable.

"Anna, can you do me a favor and go fetch me the package I picked up in London?"

"The wrapped one, m'lady?" Helen looked over to Anna. She knew that things worked differently where Sybil was from, but she had never expected to have a member of the aristocracy in her house and the way Mary talked to a willing Anna reminded her of the way that her own children would talk to one another.

Certainly, Sybil was different. Mary and Edith were lovely, but they spoke with a certain air and walked with an importance of the same. With no other option, Mrs. Branson shook it off, understanding that a child cannot help the world which they are brought up to believe in.

Anna had returned now, handing the package wrapped in shiny white paper to Mary who quickly handed it off to Sybil. "I got you this as a wedding gift and I think you should open it before you get dressed."

"Mary, I-"

"Just do it, darling. I would be an awful big sister if I didn't get you something gorgeous and lavish."

"I got you something that can wait until after the wedding," Edith offered up, not wanting Sybil to think she had forgotten her. "I knew one of us needed to be sensible…"

Sybil smiled at Edith in appreciation before she toyed at the edge of the paper. She did her best not to ruin the pattern as she slowly pulled the box out of its confines. She recognized the outside of the box; the girls had received nightgowns and chemises from this place before but suddenly Sybil was afraid to open such a box in front of her mother in law. She looked to Mary who responded by placing a steady hand to her sister's shoulder.

Sybil forged on, her curiosity getting the best of her. Inside, behind all of the cream tissue paper and stuffing, was a silk chemise in the most beautiful off white silk Sybil had ever seen. "Oh, Mary…" Underneath it, a brassiere in the same color.

Further down in the box, was a brand new pair of white stockings with a matching garter belt. The box still had contents, and as Sybil pulled back another layer of tissue paper she set her eyes upon the same combination piece in black. Below that, four pairs of silk knickers, in lavender, light blue, white, and black.

Sybil knew she should be embarrassed, opening such a gift in front of her fiance's mother, but even Helen was marveling at the extravagant stitching from her place over Sybil's shoulder. The knickers were a wonderful French lace cut much like a pair of tap pants she had marveled at when they were back in London during Sybil's season. A blush appeared to Sybil's cheeks, suddenly wondering what Mary must have thought when her younger sister revealed how much she loved the garments. Did Mary now think it was because of Tom? Sybil wondered if she loved him even then, if she wanted him the way she did lately even so many years ago. Was there a subtext even she was unaware of?

"Mary, you really shouldn't have…"

Mary pulled her sister in for a hug. "But I did because I wanted to. You're still my baby sister and I love you and you deserve to have nice things...and you can tell Tom I said so."

Sybil could only laugh. She wiped at the single tear that had managed its way out of the corner of her eye. She thought nothing of it but in a way she was ashamed to be so touched by an unnecessary gift. She thought back to the other night, as Tom stared at her lovingly in just her simple beige chemise and stockings. He loved her then and he would love her now. Things like this didn't matter to him, but a little part of Sybil knew they would always matter to her and she hated knowing how beautiful she would feel when finally in nicer lingerie for her husband.

The thought was confirmed when Anna helped her into the new undergarments. Helen had left the room at this point, saying she was off to brew another pot of tea, but doing it so that Sybil could enjoy her time with her family from home. Sybil revealed herself, in the new cream lace under outfit, causing both Mary and Edith to smile in turn. "You look dashing, darling," Mary managed, with a hand pressed to her lips like that of a proud parent.

"Is the dress in here, m'lady?"

"Yes!" Sybil beamed, turning back to Anna. "I hope it fits. The dressmaker here had to send my measurements to London and-" They were all speechless as the lace garment was pulled from its box. It was a brighter white than the chemise she had on, but as it was pulled over Sybil's head, the undergarment disappeared, only revealing a gown with a modest neckline and sleeves that cut off at the elbow. There was a train in the back, and the lace embroidery adorned the frock from the bodice all the way down to where the gown dragged on the floor.

"I'm surprised you're not wearing pants," Edith quipped even causing Mary to chuckle.

"I thought about it…" Sybil teased back. "But Katherine and I liked this one and I know Tom will think it rather pretty…"

"It's nice to see you so in love, Sybil," Mary whispered, still speaking out from behind where her hand covered her lips in admiration. "You're happy, m'love and that is something I cannot say about myself. You deserve it, darling. Every last ounce of it."

Sybil could only smile. She continued to look at herself in the mirror, knowing how much more elegant she'd look once her hair was pulled back and draped at her neck in a soft curly bun as she had mentioned to Anna. She felt beautiful; beautiful and loved and free.

A car had arrived for the girls just after one o'clock. The church was nearly five minutes away from their apartment but Mrs. Branson assured the girls that time would be needed to get from the Northside of Dublin to the city's heart.

It did take longer than expected, but the girls passed the time discussing what Sybil had missed while she was in Ireland, and how the season in London wasn't the same without her. Sybil could only blush when her sisters relayed how missed she was by all of the young men at the cotillions. Pride swelled in her when she thought of Tom and how she was just as lucky as he must have felt, finally marrying the boy she had loved for so long.

They pulled up outside of the church, being greeted by Katherine and Elizabeth, and Elizabeth's daughter who was serving as flower girl. All three Irish girls could not contain their joy as they saw how beautiful Sybil looked, a crown of little white meadow flowers in her hair, contrasting with her black tresses.

She waited in the back of the church, wanting so badly to see Tom one last time. Mary and Edith and Anna left her side, as did Mrs. Branson. She was left to walk herself down the aisle, an idea she always had, but knew would be deserted for a tradition she secretly cherished. He was her father and he was back in Yorkshire, no doubt thinking of her and maybe even regretting his decision to leave her alone. Or at least that's what she told herself as she was reminded that if he truly felt such things he would be here. She had to believe that and now she did.

Not wanting to ruin her makeup, she held her head high and began to walk, just as she was instructed to do. The music invited her down the aisle allowing the entire congregation to gasp at how stunning she looked as a bride.

From then on it was just her and Tom. She had felt it, the electricity as soon as she entered the church. His eyes were on her, never again to be placed elsewhere. As he lifted her veil, he fought the urge to kiss the corner of her mouth and instead whispered a confirmation of the same into her ear.

Sybil responded, grinning broadly as the Priest talked on, giving the mass and blessing the young couple. Both her and Tom, so lost in one another, were silent when he asked for their vows. The entire church laughed the situation off, causing Sybil to blush as she began.

"I…" She began, already feeling the tears coating her eyes. "I kept you a secret for a long long time. But you're not a secret anymore and I couldn't be more happy. I love you, Tom. I always have and I always will and I hope you know how much you mean to me. I guess this is thank you, for all you've done for me and all you continue to do. You're my best friend first and my husband second, and I want you to know that there is nowhere in this world I would rather be than by your side...because it is such a lovely place to be." Even she laughed at that little bit, which ironically enough sent the tears she was trying to hold back, down her cheeks. "I didn't want that life. I didn't want it as a young girl and then you came along and it was all so clear. And it was okay not to want it. And then suddenly you were this boy, this man really, with the same views on the world that I had and that scared me and comforted me at the same time. I think that's what love is...or at least that's what love has been for me. It's terrifying but it's also the most wonderful thing in the world. I have felt things I never thought I would ever feel. So thank you. Thank you for setting me free and allowing me to be the woman I am today. I love you, Tom Branson."

"Syb, I-" He muttered a small "shite" causing Sybil, who was the only one to hear it, to laugh. Tears didn't coat his cheeks but they soon would and Tom hated how sensitive she made him, especially in front of a church that once saw him to be so strong. "I love you, crazy girl. I love you so much. And it was hard for me all those years to say what I said and to watch you carry on as if you didn't feel it too. But I see now that you did feel it and I guess a part of me is happy that it took us this long to get here. I promised you I would put your happiness first in my world and I hope, here and hereafter, that you trust me to do so because nothing makes me happier than seeing you happy. You deserve the world and I may not be able to give you the things you grew up with but I promise that what I can give you is worth so much more. And when things change in this world, the estates and the gowns and the dinner parties may fade but on that day I will still be loving you."

"You promise?" She teased.

"I promised you then and I promise you now. Thank you for betting on me, crazy girl. I owe you the sun and the moon and the stars." Tom was crying now too. It was the first time she had ever seen him shed a tear and it warmed her heart the way nothing ever had before. She wanted to kiss him, but she knew that would come shortly and she was willing to be as patient as he had been all those years back at Downton. A few moments would do nothing but dry their lips and give them peace of mind.

When it finally came, she kissed him with everything she had and he responded in kind, practically lifting her off her feet. It was a thank you and a promise to seal everything the two of them had just vowed to one another. The congregation clapped and cheered as the two came together, with Anna and Edith practically in tears while Mary stood stoically next to them. They headed back down the aisle, holding onto one another as Tom brought Sybil's hand up to his lips and kissed it. "Mo anam cara," he whispered, bringing her back to the night they shared a week ago.

"I love you," she responded, unable to say much else. The love she felt for him made breathing difficult. As they exited the church out onto a crowded city street of Dublin, she wondered if she would ever breathe normally again, and if, for that matter, she ever wanted to.

"Tom?" Sybil said, nestling into him. The car they were in now taking them to a local pub where the rest of the family would be waiting. "You're my family now."

He couldn't respond. He knew how much her family meant to her but he also could tell how broken she had felt all day when her sisters arrived and her parents did not. It hurt him to see her hurt, so he could only agree; she was his family now.

* * *

I meant to put this before but "mo anam cara" literally means "my soul friend" but it should be read as soulmate. It's a gaeilge declaration that is still used (at least in my family) and many of my family members have it engraved on their wedding rings.

Read and review my lovelies! No, seriously, do it. I don't think I've ever read wedding vows for these flawless human beings so tell me what you thought!

x. Elle


	15. Love Is Not A Fight

**A/N:** Just a warning that I'm back at school finishing up my last semester of my undergrad degree. I'm pretty far ahead in the writing of this so I will try to post when I can but it probably won't be as often as it has been. I promise to try my best!

**Timeline:** Dublin. Post-Marriage.

**Song:** _Love Is Not A Fight_ - Warren Barfield

* * *

Marriage had been just as she was told it would be: simple. Of course that was something Sybil was sure she was told, that would later hold no weight but it turned out to be quite factual. Marrying Tom, living with Tom, and spending every night with Tom was the most simple thing in the world; Sybil wondered everyday why she hadn't done it sooner. The latter thought was quickly brushed away every time he kissed the corner of her mouth or held her hands so delicately in his own. It took time for them to get here and that time allowed them to be what they were when they arrived: happy.

"I'm not stupid Tom."

"I never said you were, love. I just asked if you stopped at the bank today…"

Sybil looked up at him. She was hit by it, the way his eyes knew things her lips were not yet ready to reveal. "Can't you do it? I mean, on your way home from work…?" She questioned, hoping she suddenly didn't seem like a wife that wanted to stay home all day while her husband went out into the world to collect a wage. After all, that was far from who Sybil was. She had been endlessly searching for a nursing position since her arrival in Dublin and had been turned down at every option. She was always too inexperienced, or too young. All of which Sybil understood to mean "too English."

"What is our account number, Syb?"

He had caught her. Sybil bit her lip as she looked up from the current application she was filling out. She dropped her pen and looked to him, her long hair in it's plait being flipped over her shoulder in the process. "That's not fair! I'm trying! I can do the laundry now and I've been making dinner lately and I do believe I can take the train to work by myself now!"

"You're right." Tom said no more. He walked into the bedroom to get out of his work suit and into something more comfortable. If he had it his way, he would just be able to collapse into bed and forget the articles he had just left at the office and the argument he had unwillingly just started.

Sybil followed, leaning against the door frame as she watched him change. "I don't want to be right, Tom!"

"And I want you to not feel so out of place." His moves were hasty and full of stress. He ran a frustrated hand through his hair as if trying to brush it all off. He wasn't completely mad at her, but he also could no longer blame work for all of his worries. He was trying, but he needed her to try too.

She was trying, but in a different way. Her version of attempt was different than his; another reminder of the life she left behind to create a new, better life with him.

Tom stepped into her, shirtless and still. She stared at him, at the way the muscles of his stomach were taut and perfect, just begging for her to reach out and touch him there and then everywhere.

In a way that was unusual for his character, he ignored her eyes and looked past her. "Do you understand how frustrating it is that I have to undress you every night not because you want to be intimate but because my own wife can't undress herself?" he spat. Tom knew what he was doing and he encouraged the way she was about to react. He hadn't seen it before but he knew she was capable of such things causing his body to harden at the thought.

Sybil curled her hand into a fist. "Oh fuck off!" It was then that she headed back into the kitchen to prepare a dinner she was sure she would be eating alone. Sybil had never said that word or any others like it. But the response she was expecting when she tasted it on her tongue was not the response she would soon get. She felt empowered and not nearly as cruel as she had expected. His reaction was confirmation enough, making her feel it and him all the more fully.

Tom smiled, suddenly forgetting about bank accounts "Say it again," he whispered, closer to her than she had ever felt before this moment. Of course they had been closer, but this felt different. There was a spark here just threatening to start a fire so passionate and wild it could burn this flat down. It scared and thrilled them, knowing that once it began they'd both be too distracted to put it out.

As a blush crept across her cheeks, she looked down, half out of habit and half out of coyness. It was then that she saw his hand on her hip. His touch sent a jolt up and down her spine, causing goosebumps to appear on the skin she exposed to him. Behind them, the fire crackled on but they stared at each other, noticing a whole different kind of warmth entering the room. They had been here so many times before but not once was it provoked by a fight. Sybil could only smile, wanting to tease him more. "No…" she whispered back before attacking his lips with as much fervor as she could muster. It was hungry and lustful, though neither of them seemed to mind. Everything they wanted to say to one another since Tom had left for work that morning was now evident on their lips, exchanged back and forth in the form of words only they could taste.

She was up against him now, their hips creating a fiction as he hoisted her up with her heels digging into his lower back. Pushed up against the kitchen wall, Tom thanked the thin cotton material of Sybil's nightgown as he felt her breasts through the fabric. So suddenly she was pert and ready for him, further emphasized as he teased at her skin through the soft cotton. She had changed when he did before work and he wondered when she had gotten back into her nightgown, almost as if she was preparing for such a rushed action to occur when he returned home.

Sybil dropped her head back. Her fingertips, previously caressing the soft skin of his back were now digging into his shoulders as he kissed up from the valley of her chest to the tip of her chin. Unable to take it anymore, she aggressively grabbed his face and brought his lips to her. Tom nibbled on his wife's lower lip causing her to moan into his mouth. Their breathing alone was enough to send the room they were standing in up in flames. So ragged and uneven, they moved against one another until Tom could not take the pressure anymore and brought them to the couch. He needed something, anything, other than the feel of her hips grinding against him. He thrust up against her, forcing her to feel him hard against her center. It was his turn to bait, knowing that no matter what angle it was coming from that Sybil would always accept it.

She needed and wanted more than he was willing to give, his body already weak as she teased. He laid her down, allowing her hair to fan out beneath her. As he straddled her waist, Sybil ran her hands up and down his chest. Tom paid no attention, focusing instead on the belt he wore. Quickly, Sybil stilled his hands. "Let me," she whispered, kissing him, slipping her tongue past his lips as her hands lazily undid his belt. They separated, lips barely touching as Tom helped Sybil out of her nightgown. Aside from her knickers, she was naked for him. A blush spread from her toes to her cheeks, highlighting all she was ready to give him.

"I need you," he whispered. He was unable to say much else. Tom leaned in to her to seize her lips again, but Sybil leant back, taunting his craving. She giggled, something that was lost as her fingers daintily played with the zipper on his trousers.

Not even getting his pants off his hips, she held him in her hand, feeling heat pump through his member as she ran her hand up and down the length of it. She smiled up at him as she continued to encourage him. She stopped though, right before he reached his much awaited climax. In apology, Sybil kissed his lips, feeling him almost tremble beneath her. A pain appeared but was quickly wiped away as Tom silently agreed with Sybil to come together.

In all honesty, she loved the power she had. He enjoyed something of the same when minutes later he had her screaming his name as he pumped his two fingers in and out of her tight center. So much for coming together, she thought, her lips curling into a devilish smile.

Sybil remembered the first time he had touched her like this. It was their wedding night and she remembered her legs tensing as he touched her there, slipping one finger then one more past her wet folds to feel the heat at her center. Sybil had always imagined married life to be a duty, something she would do as many wives before her had. Instead, she found herself in love and married to a man that made it his job to pleasure her in every way possible. The comfort and need Tom paid her was more than enough reassurance as they continued to explore one another, night after night.

He loved her like this, and though she would never admit it, Sybil loved it too. It was the lack of control and her body's willingness to give herself to him that made her always so unsure. Tom often had to coax her through her orgasm, to let her know it was okay to let go. Tonight, there was no coaxing. Nothing could be heard in the air but her breathing. Her mouth was dropped open, closed shortly when she bit her bottom lip to keep from yelling out again.

With his fingers upon her skin, Tom nibbled at her collarbone as she shook beneath him. Tom licked his fingers before paying special attention to her still swollen clit. When he did so, Sybil jerked, unsure of whether she'd ever escape from the current state of euphoria she was seemingly lost in. When she finally came down, Sybil leaned up, grabbing Tom by the chin to taste herself on his lips.

"I want you...now," she said, her voice guttural and honest. Their kisses were full of the very thing she was proclaiming.

"Sybil, I'm sorry-"

"Enough. It's over. Now," she gritted through her teeth. What she wanted to tell him was to shut up, but such words would never fall from her pretty lips. Not now, as he tasted them again and again.

Tom obliged, but only because her hands were between them, bringing the head of his length to tease her lower lips. She used the precum on the tip of his cock to ease him into her, still unable to resist the urge to drop her head back as he filled her completely. It was always like this, and she was especially glad they remained the same even in this altered state. Were they even still arguing? She had forgotten what for as he began to move against her, causing her hips to do the same without much encouragement.

It was then that Sybil reached up to move some of Tom's fringe off his forehead. Perspiration began to coat his forehead and for a small moment she wondered what she must have looked like. Forgetting everything but this vision of him moving above her, Sybil's touch softened, allowing her hand to rest behind his ear so that her thumb could lovingly stroke the stubble on his cheek.

"Dear god," she moaned, not even aware that the same feeling she had experienced minutes before was already beginning to exist in her belly again. "Tommmm..."

"I love you, I love you, I love-" He was chanting the three words against her neck, feeling himself grow close as well. He wanted them to come together, and they did. Passionately, they connected at the lips as well, letting go in the process. The air around them crackled before fizzling out and leaving them both to relax against one another. There was no anger, only love to fill the stagnant air and they were both thankful the threat of flame from before had died out. They both drank in the moment as their bodies shook against one another.

Tom's head was on Sybil's chest, listening to her quickened heartbeat. After their first week of marriage he knew better than to ask her if she wanted him to move. Sybil's favorite part of lovemaking was the aftermath when Tom covered her body with his own weight, resting on her for the support he often so desperately craved. She'd caress his cheek and kiss his forehead, thanking him for the love he had just showed her. Unable to say anything, he'd smile into her, praying that things, specifically nights like these, would never change. Part of her knew they would not. It was something she never needed to doubt as each night they were together they grew closer and closer as a comfort swept them away to where they both needed to be.

When Sybil finally let them separate, Tom slipped out of her. Sybil reached up, grabbing for the throw that rested folded on the back of the couch behind Tom's head. He stopped her, instead scooping her body up to bring her into their bedroom. Sybil hid her face in his neck as he moved them. Marriage would never eliminate the reality of it all; the feeling of his skin against hers, getting rid of so many more boundaries than the clothes they were previously wearing which now littered the floor of the kitchen and living room.

He laid her down, much like he had before. When she hit the mattress, she scooted up toward the pillows and quickly covered herself with their duvet. Tom joined her; he felt self-conscious with the fireplace illuminating his backside.

Without a thought, Sybil leant into her husband, resting her head on his chest. He kissed the top of her head forcing Sybil to decide she had not yet had enough. She pulled his face down to hers again, giving him a kiss that made him dizzy. Just as quickly as she had done it, she was the same innocent girl he had fallen in love with. They were back to being best friends, not lovers, though the latter never disappeared for too long.

"You know," Sybil said, looking up at Tom. "I do believe there has not been a night since we've been married where we haven't made love so while yes, I may not be able to undress myself completely, I don't believe I've left you too unsatisfied...and I've sold those clothes so you're welcome..." She finished with a satisfied smirk. She didn't look at him. She didn't need to see his face to know that he felt bad about what he had previously said.

He still would have felt bad even if it were true. Tom and Sybil respected one another in a way that perhaps not many couples their age could. They didn't talk to each other that way or in any tone similar. They were honest and their communication was always open, but it didn't have to occur at a price. Tom knew better, even before he was provoked to apologize during their lovemaking, than to belittle Sybil like that. She deserved better, a face that was only reassured by the comment she made and the way they both allowed each other to brush it off as if nothing happened. It was almost as if they were keeping a tally in their heads for a day that would come when Sybil would say some thing equally as cruel. Sybil and Tom were told days like that existed in marriage but knew all the same that for them they would be few and far between.

"Please don't make me seem like such an abusive husband..."

Now Sybil looked up. The smile from before still played itself across her face. "Oh, never." She kidded, but her words were true. Sybil was all too forgiving of the man whose chest she rested on. She hoped he understood, and most of her knew that he did, that she was kidding. Sybil hoped that the movement of her body against his, the way she kissed him so passionately and tasted him against her tongue was enough to reassure him that she wanted this, all of it, just as much as he did.

"You're a minx," he stated plainly.

"Perhaps." She lifted her leg so she was straddling him. She was thankful for the fire on the far wall for keeping her exposed shoulders warm. A different kind of heat rubbed at her center as she felt him writhe beneath her while he stiffened.

"You tease," he groaned, eliciting a moan from his wife as he jerked his hips upward in anticipation.

Sybil nodded, holding her bottom lip in between her teeth. "Always."

Tom took her in. Her hair was frizzy and her lips plump, matching the way her chest was swollen and exposed to him. He breathed in, loving this side of her, a side that only he saw. Something changed, causing the electricity that existed in the air to subside and make room for the truth. "Syb?"

"Yes, love?"

"You know how happy you've made me right? How happy you make me?" The tense didn't matter. He said it all those years ago and he had said it many times since: he was in love with this girl and was so happy for the life they had built and were still building together.

"I'm guessing it's as happy as I am..."

"More." Once again, the air changed. He was defiant now, gladly taking on the role as tease so Sybil could have a break.

She willingly played along, looking up from where she was kissing his chest to respond. "More?" She smirked. "Do you want to fight about it?"

Tom could only drop his head back and laugh, giving her more access to the skin below his adam's apple. "Absolutely."

They were both laughing now as Tom flipped Sybil over onto her back to cover both her body with his own as his lips tasted her. A few kisses to her lips, then one to her nose and then he was inside of her again, both of them working toward something so familiar and safe. Minutes later, when they'd both come down, a feeling of elation would fill the room and they'd settle further into the mattress to hide from the world. Only when one of them would wake the other in the still of the night would their activities continue, as if never needing more than a few words of reminding to pick up exactly where they had left off.

* * *

There's still so much more of this to finish writing and post but I already have another fanfic idea brewing. Hmmm…

Thanks for reading! Review if you can!

x. Elle


	16. Brand New Colony

**Timeline:** Autumn in Dublin.

**Song:** _Brand New Colony_ - Postal Service

* * *

Sybil felt it more the more she was in Dublin. Church was warm and inviting, but other places, like the farmer's market on Saturdays and the walks in the park they would sometimes take before dinner at his mother's made Sybil believe that everyone knew who she was and where she was from. It was as if the world was in on a secret Tom and her were not intent on keeping from them. It burned into her in the same way their eyes did, like daggers, peeling back layers and leaving her exposed. Usual of Sybil, she would smile in return, never knowing another way to face a world that was so unkind.

The local harvest festival was a tradition, as Sybil was told. Tom, not one to participate in such traditions invited her, causing Sybil to immediately agree to attend when she saw his face light up. He explained it to her, the animals and the food and how pretty Dublin was at this time of year. She had seen it herself but she was also anxious for him to show her. Sybil often enjoyed seeing things through Tom's eyes, as if the different vantage point proved to be more beautiful because it was allowed by the man she called her best friend and husband.

All day, Sybil had felt uneasy about going. When Katherine met her after work, Sybil found herself feeling even more unsure as Katherine relayed to Sybil that her sister Elizabeth was on the warpath after feuding with her husband. Sybil thought back to the one fight she could recall her and Tom ever having. It was about money, or rather the bank account she didn't know the number to. Sybil forgot the particulars but remembered the way Tom writhed against her as he brought them both to a delicious orgasm. Looking down the pavement not, a blush sweeping across her cheeks, Sybil had drowned out Katherine's discussion of her sister's marriage.

"Right, Sybil? I mean, isn't that what you were saying?"

Sybil looked up and smiled, her features suddenly going blank. "Oh yeah," she said with a smile. "Right."

Katherine waved Elizabeth over as her and Sybil reached the edge of the field where the festival was occurring. Already families littered the grass with children running here and there eating sweets while their parents drank mulled cider on blankets nearby.

"Hi," Elizabeth huffed finally reaching the two. She looked as if she had been crying. She held her handbag on her wrist with a handkerchief folded up in her palm. "Sybil, where is Tom?" There was a bit of hesitation behind her rushed question as if she needed the answer but feared it all the same.

Sybil's response came simply, unsure of what Elizabeth was getting at. "He's at work, Liz-"

"Of course he is…"

For a reason Sybil was unaware of, she took Elizabeth's tone against her brother to be a personal attack against her. She stepped into the eldest Branson sister and breathed in deeply. "He works hard, Liz. Really hard. He's trying to make something of himself-"

"What did you think of my brother's profession when he worked for your father, Sybil?"

Katherine stepped forward. She had quickly realized where this conversation was going and knew, even before it really began, that she would not be happy at the destination once they arrived. Sybil had been polite and respectful since arriving in Dublin, but Katherine knew from what Tom had told her that there was a fire inside this girl and it was often ignited when she was protecting the people and things she loved. "Elizabeth, please, just because you're-"

Elizabeth ignored her sister. She looked away, then back to Sybil. She saw what Sybil was feeling: the glares of women her age taking in this seemingly English girl who had taken Tom away. In a way that only an older sister can, Elizabeth took advantage of their gawking and joined their team. Her rough day and the week she had been having with her own husband only encouraged her behavior. Like Sybil, Elizabeth was strong willed and passionate. Mostly, she cared about her family and she just wanted the whispering to silence. Somehow, it made sense for her to encourage it before than could happen. "Go on, Sybil."

Sybil swallowed. "I thought it was a fine profession. I think every profession is a fine profession, really."

"Then why must he better himself?"

Sybil stepped forward. "No, that's not what I meant-"

"Well let me tell you what I mean. Tom does work hard because Tom has always worked hard. But don't you for a minute think he doesn't do it to impress you and that castle you grew up in. Ever since you arrived he has done nothing but work and be so in love with you. An English girl. Ha!" She said, rather loudly, if Katherine and Sybil were given an opinion on the matter. "He doesn't need to better himself. In case you hadn't noticed, to most of the girls here he is exactly what they want and what they need. So for once in your life can you please forget that your father owns the land you grew up on and probably some of our land here too and remember that you got lucky?"

Katherine stepped in again, separating Sybil and her sister. "Elizabeth, really. That is enough! What is going on? Sybil didn't even-"

"No! They brought John down today. He lost his job! And you wanna know why? Well I'd like to know too. But the English don't give reasons, they just take! Your people have ruined it here! Ruined it!" she emphasized, finally allowing the grief she was holding back to settle.

Sybil looked around, needing to focus on anything but the way tears were forming in Elizabeth's eyes. She wanted to hug the girl, to tell her it would be all right, but her mind heard the way she and Tom talked and she suddenly wasn't so sure it would be. Back at Downton, it always was but Sybil was reminded in this moment and many more like it that the rest of the world wasn't always so safe. "Elizabeth, I am so sorry. I wish I could-"

"I wish I could too, Sybil. So be thankful, alright? Tom does work hard and he loves you and-" She was crying now. "Forget it."

Sybil stared at the ground, never once feeling as ashamed as she was right now. When she looked up, she saw Tom approaching them just as Katherine was ushering Elizabeth away to calm her down.

Reaching his wife, Tom pointed back over his shoulder to where his two sisters were now standing with the rest of the family. "What happened?"

"Oh, Tom…" She wanted to break down, but instead used her husband's chest for comfort. He smelled like ink, a reminder of the work he had that Elizabeth's husband was just deprived of. Sybil didn't hate anyone, but she imagined this place would make her cold before it was done with her and she would hate to go back to Downton as anyone other than the person who left five months ago. "John lost his job."

Tom rubbed at her back. "Love, what's wrong?"

"Your sister hates me," she said, finally looking up at him. Sybil had willed herself not to cry but a pocket of air weighed heavily on her chest and throat making her feel as if she was suffocating all the same.

Tom hugged her again, this time kissing her temple as they pulled away. "She does not hate you, love. John will find another job and Elizabeth will get over herself. She'll most likely bake you something delicious as an apology...she always does," he added with a smirk.

Sybil let out a small laugh. It gave Tom permission he didn't quite need to wrap an arm around her waist and lead her to one of the many food tents.

"Why would he lose his job?" she inquired.

Tom sighed. "Probably more Black and Tans crisis. If they're not taking, they're destroying. We were discussing it at work the other day, I just didn't think it would hit so close to home. England is getting worried with the treaty that with the cost of the war and the loss of the profit here their economy will grow to be unstable. They're buying land to ensure they have a stake in our wealth after we become a free state. They're scared," he mumbled. "Ask your father, they did the same thing after the Boars…"

"Should they be?"

"It's going to take us awhile to recover regardless. I don't understand why they won't just give in. It's been so bloody for both sides. You'd think they'd want a break."

'Okay," Sybil dismissed, no longer wanting to here how the country that had raised her was such a threat to this brand new world she was beginning to feel she belonged in. It was she who needed a break.

Forgetting wars and treaties, Sybil wanted hot cider, something to calm the raging headache she had forgotten about until now. It beat on, emphasizing the other parts of her that ached like her heart and her feet as a pulse ran warmly through her veins.

They were standing in line now with Tom telling Sybil about the day he had had. Sybil urged him on with questions she was all too happy to ask. The first was about a problem she wished he had resolved with his boss and the second came only after he assured her that he had. Sybil told him about the job she had been offered watching a young girl from down the street while the child's parents worked.

"You want to do that?"

"It's money and I so enjoy little Emily's company! Do you mind?"

They moved up in line now. "So you're a governess, basically."

Sybil elbowed him in a rather playful manner. "I hated my governess so I really hope not-"

"Oh yes, why don't you tell us all about your governess!" Sybil and Tom looked behind them, their eyes meeting the eyes of a girl it was clear Tom knew all too well. Sybil had seen her in church before; her family sat two pews over from the Branson's every Sunday. "Tommy, aren't you going to introduce me to your new girl?"

Tom sighed. "Bridget, this is Sybil, my wife-" Sybil wondered what title this girl once held if her own needed to be emphasized. Quickly she was realizing it was Bridget's lack of a title that fueled the conversation forward.

Bridget extended her hand. "Yes, I heard you had gotten married." Sybil had no choice but to accept. As soon as she had done so, she quickly regretted the innate movement. The calculation this girl made were clear and Sybil had no intentions of returning her negativity. Sybil wasn't jealous, but she imagined this girl had the power to bring her there, where Sybil would be a much less pleasant person when someone looked at Tom the way only she dared to.

"And where are you from? London?" The girls Bridget were with laughed making Sybil feel as if she was back playing with the girls Mary used to protect her from at social gatherings. Those girls, if she remembered correctly, were from London.

"Yorkshire, actually," Sybil said rather plainly. Tom tightened the grip he had on her waist causing Sybil to lean further into him. She made a mental note to thank him later for always being her strength when she had none. "How do you and Tom know one another again?"

"The same way all of us know one another. You grow up in a neighborhood and your families are friends...well you know how that whole thing works."

One of the other girls chimed in: "It was always planned that Bridget and Tommy were going to get married someday…"

Sybil ignored them. "No, I don't," she said, answering Bridget's question if only to ignore what the other girls were trying to irritate her with. She smiled, knowing she was appearing to be rather naive. Tom looked over to her, wanting to kiss away the fear that had settled into her cheeks. "I'm from the country. My only friends were my sisters, really," Sybil said with a laugh.

"And that governess you were talking about-" Bridget finished for her. It was clear to Sybil that this girl was never one to let something go. "No need to hide it, kid."

Sybil looked to Tom. She could stop the tears with Elizabeth, but for some reason this was getting to her more than she had expected. Emotion hit her live a wave and suddenly Sybil just wanted to collapse. Or run: a feeling she had not had since she left home. "Well, it's been lovely, but I really must go. Tom, darling, get me a cider, will you? I suddenly need to sit down-"

Tom moved to still her, to stop her from leaving, but she was already off, her feet in a slow trot away from the tents to a safe haven she had not yet discovered.

"Really, Bridget? Was that necessary? You are and always have been so vindictive. I'm glad some things never change."

"An English girl, Tommy? Really? And a 'crat? For you? Don't make me laugh!"

Tom grabbed the two hot ciders he had ordered from the table where the maiden behind the counter had set them down. He set down a crisp bill and a few coins while glaring at Bridget and the girls she stood with. He said nothing, but the look on his face and the pain he was carrying as he brought the drinks back to Sybil was telling.

He found her, a few minutes later on a bench underneath a large oak on the back of the property. She was smiling now, the only thing she could do to distract him from the tears she was wiping away. "I must look a sight! That was silly, I'm sorry-"

Tom handed her the paper cup filled with cider. She sipped at it and he kissed the tip of her nose. Her tears were gone now, but her skin was slick and red, reminding him of a conversation the two of them had had back in England. She had asked him about times like this, if his people, people she wanted to call her own, would accept her. Tom thought and wished they would. A part of him, the more optimistic part had imagined this would all go over smoothly. Yes, she was English and yes, he worked for her father, but not once did those things matter. The garage they used to stand in and the flat they currently resided in didn't judge them for those things. Those places rarely asked questions and passed judgement the way this town had tonight or the way Sybil had assured Tom moments later that Yorkshire most certainly would.

"I'm sorry for all of this. This fair used to be my favorite growing up but I'm starting to think maybe it's cursed-"

"Will John really find another job, Tom? I mean, what if we give him and Elizabeth some of Papa's money…"

Tom sipped at his cider then pulled Sybil further into him. "Love, they'll be fine. I know you don't want to hear it, but this has happened before. With the war over, the title of the land is switching hands as money in London is being exchanged. Somehow the poor are becoming poorer and the rich are-"

"I'm sorry," was all she could manage. She didn't need to hear the truth the understand it. It was clear the moment she stepped off the boat from Liverpool.

"No, I'm sorry. I should have prepared you for this. I didn't know-"

She cut him off with a question her lips itched to ask. "Can I kiss you?"

Tom straightened up, suddenly turning to look at her. "What?" He asked with a smile. Did she really need permission for such an act?

"I just-I don't know. I really wanted to kiss you back there. I've wanted to kiss you since you left for work this morning…"

"Of course you can kiss me, crazy girl. I'm your husband, use me as you please," he said, earning not only a kiss but a laugh from his wife. He deepened it, doing his best not to spill hot cider down the front of her dress. He had meant to comment on it when he first saw her but was distracted by the issue with his sisters. Now, as he took it in, he noticed how different it was, the lines and the patterns. Green, a color that suited her now more than ever. "You look stunning," he remarked with another kiss to the forehead.

"I feel fat," she commented.

Tom's arm was around Sybil's shoulder, holding her close. He looked down to her then out onto the expanse of the field. "Fat? Sybil…"

"I'll be fat soon, I mean. That's why I bought the dress. My skirts aren't going to fit and-"

"Syb?"

"I'm pregnant, Tom."

Without thinking, Tom dropped his cider. His hands now free, he grabbed her face and kissed her lips with all of the love in his body. He couldn't think or feel anything other than the way she responded, fisting at the heavy material of his suit jacket. "You're...oh god, Syb, I'm-" He laughed, kissing her again. They couldn't stop now. They needed the contact almost as much as they needed to escape all of this. "I'm so happy, Syb."

"Really?"

Tom nodded. "Really!" A beat and then: "How far along are you?"

"I don't know, I only put the pieces together this morning."

"This morning?" Tom wondered how such a big conclusion could be drawn in one simple morning.

Sybil nodded, finishing off the last bit of her cider. The liquid in the cup had grown cold anyway. "Before you went to work and you were commenting on how my...my breasts," she managed with a tinge of rosiness to her still innocent cheeks, "seemed larger that usual."

Tom smiled, remembering the morning well. The two had made love multiple times before he was forced to get out of bed and ready himself for work. He had said such a thing, among other things, as he remained inside of her and kissed the back of her neck.

"So you haven't been to a doctor?"

Sybil shook her head. "No, I want you to come with me...if you can get the time off, of course!" She added, not wanting to ever take him away from the work he was growing to love. "But all of the signs are there, Tom. My body has been awfully sensitive lately and I am rather tired. I haven't been sick yet but my appetite is down and I am so very emotional-"

Tom kissed her temple. "You don't say," he teased.

The comment earned him a slap to the chest. "Don't start with me, Tom. I've heard my mother was a witch when she was pregnant with me. I don't want to have to hurt you-"

"Is that threat Mrs. Branson? Besides," Tom said, relaxing against the bench. "Your father is still here so I'd say I'll be fine."

"Don't count your chickens before they hatch, mister."

Tom could only laugh. A silence settled and Tom wondered why she didn't fill it with questions of the girls they had left behind at the tent. "Pregnant," he breathed out. "You're having my baby."

"I'm having your baby." She was playing with his hand now as it rested lazily over her shoulder. She kissed his knuckles, staring at the ring she had bought for him with the wages she had saved from her time during the war. She remembered how he had gladly accepted the gift, not once stating how most men didn't wear rings, or jewelry of any sort for that matter. Since that day, it rested on his finger, a reminder of the unconventional love they so deeply shared.

Sybil thought back to the day in the library when she first saw him. Now, that boy was a man and that man was her husband. She breathed out, loving the thought and him so much more now that she was carrying his child. It was all real now, and she was ready to welcome a child into the world they had created. A world that existed not in Downton or Dublin but in some place in between. "We're having a baby, Tom."

* * *

Thanks for reading! Reviews are greatly appreciated! I am craving feedback, especially as this becomes less and less compliant with canon...

x. Elle


	17. All That I Want

**Timeline:** Christmas in Dublin. The last time I spent Christmas in Ireland I was a baby so I hope most of this is accurate...

**Song:** _All That I Want_ - The Weepies

* * *

_Mum,_

_I hope that this reaches you in time. If not, you now know I won't be able to attend Christmas this year, though Tom and I both appreciate the invitation. We simply do not have the funds to afford the boat fare and we'd prefer to save the time and stress and spend the Holiday in Dublin. Please do not think this is me in anyway choosing my new life over the one I've left behind. I miss you and Mary and Edith and Papa more than you can imagine. _

_Tom and I have discussed attending Christmas next year, if you would have us. Tom's earning a steady wage now and I've been picking up work here and there. If we save, I don't see it being a problem as I do miss Yorkshire this time of year._

_I am writing you to let you know that we are expecting. I am about two months along and Tom and I could not be happier. Feel free to share the news with Papa though I do not care to hear his response. Marriage has been all I expected and I will not have his comments during such a wonderful time. _

_I'd appreciate it if you refrained from sharing the news with Mary and Edith and Granny. It's bad news to share such an early pregnancy with everyone. I will tell them when I am ready but for now I'd like to keep the news to a small group of people._

_I am happy and I do wish everyone could be happy for me. Please know I do miss Downton but Tom has made Dublin the most beautiful new home. Our flat is lovely and Tom has been the most wonderful husband. He may not be what you or Papa wanted for me but it's important you know that he's all I've ever wanted and that he makes me ever so happy. I hope that's enough for you and that you're both coming around to us. God only knows it's enough for me._

_Please let me know how everyone is. I really do miss everyone and look forward to reuniting in the near future. I hope Mary and Matthew are figuring themselves out and that Edith finds something of the same. I miss their bickering, if you'll believe it, but I do wish them the best. _

_I miss and love you all._

_Best,_

_Sybil_

The letter was sent nearly a month ago and Sybil had checked the mail everyday waiting for a response. Tom watched as Sybil went to their mailbox every morning and then returned with nothing but bills and the local paper. It was Christmas Eve now and Tom's heart sunk as he remembered he had nothing to give her, not even a letter from her parents.

"Explain this to me again," she said, loving the way she was snuggled into him, holding onto his upper arm for support as they meandered through a rather crowded Dublin street.

"We go to mass at midnight tonight then we'll sleep at my parent's house and open gifts in the morning after breakfast."

"Gifts?" Sybil inquired, remembering how they had promised not to exchange anything.

"Don't worry about it. It'll be fun and trust me, it goes by so quickly."

"So we all sleep at your mom's? Where will we all fit?"

Tom laughed, pulling the hand he was holding up to his mouth to kiss the skin where her wedding ring rested. Her hands were swollen, much the way she told them they would be. Pregnancy looked good on her though, and Tom enjoyed the changes to her body and did his best to reassure her that she was beautiful as ever. It wasn't hard to say such things, especially when everything about her carrying his child was all the more appealing to him. "You and I get a bedroom...you can thank the baby for that one."

He thanked the baby for other things too, like the endless nights of lovemaking as she was suddenly insatiable and he was all too willing to please. They would awake the next morning after what could only be considered a nap and continue where they had left off with Tom entering Sybil in one slow motion.

"Oh good," Sybil said, as if reading his mind and picturing the same things her husband was.

As promised, they attended midnight mass, and then when everyone else went to a local pub to celebrate, Tom brought Sybil back to his mother's to rest. They did little of the latter and instead laid around, enjoying one another's company as they lay naked under the duvet on the bed in the guest room Sybil was so fond of.

"Happy Christmas, love," Sybil whispered before leaning up to kiss him. It left her breathless and wanting more but she settled for such a thing as they both heard keys in the front door, inviting the rest of the family home.

"How's my girl doing?"

Sybil beamed, watching as Tom's hand traveled down to the swell of her stomach. "God, you're beautiful."

"You know, I didn't know what to expect but I'm actually enjoying this whole pregnancy thing. I watched women suffer through it at the hospital but I feel great. I can tell he or she is going to be healthy and just really lovely. I couldn't be happier, Tom."

"Does this mean you want more?"

Sybil ran a fingernail down the line separating Tom's chest. She smiled now, looking up at him as if such an emotion could convey exactly what she wanted to say better than words ever could. "More? I want a flock of them."

"A flock?" Tom questioned, all too amused.

Sybil nodded. "Three or four."

Tom kissed her nose. "I would love that."

She leaned up, stroking his cheek as she took his lips against hers. Not needing much enticing, she slipped her tongue past his lips to apply pressure to his own. She moaned as she was reminded of how sensitive her body was since becoming pregnant. Sybil reveled in the feel of him, still slightly soft, pushing against her tummy. She smiled into the kiss, pulling them apart. "Me too."

A knock sounded at the door, forcing Tom to call out a frustrated "One minute!" as he and Sybil slipped into the pajamas they had packed for the night.

On the other side of the door, Elizabeth stood, knowing all too well what her brother and his wife had previously been up to. "No need. I'm just letting you know that John and I are taking the kids home and we'll be back in the morning." She paused, then returned with a thought she must have happened upon. "Sybil, how are you feeling?"

"Wonderful," Sybil yelled out, giggling as Tom kissed her neck sending her into a fit against the mattress. "I'll see you tomorrow?" she tried to manage in between laughs. Elizabeth responded with a gaeilge Christmas greeting. She was happy to be ignored as she heard Tom cause Sybil to laugh from behind the large oak door that separated them.

~!~

Tom awoke to the smell of fresh bangers and coffee. The bed next to him was empty but as he checked the watch he left on the bedside table the night before he was thankful to see he had not overslept the way he originally surmised.

Entering the kitchen, he saw Sybil, dancing at the counter as she placed a freshly baked batch of muffins on a plate. When she saw him, she smiled, her face full of so much more energy now that she was pregnant. He smiled back, being given no other option when his wife was standing before him in such a state. "Nollaig…" she began, forgetting the rest.

"Shona Dhuit," he finished for her, causing her to smile before returning to the sausage still simmering in a pan on the stove. Tom wrapped his hands around Sybil's midsection, resting them on the child growing within her. "Couldn't sleep?" He asked, kissing the space behind her ear.

Sybil turned off the stove and turned around. "Not really. And I didn't want to wake you so I figured I would make everyone breakfast so your mum could have the morning off. It could be our gift to everyone."

"Well you should have woke me. If it's a gift from the both of us, I want to help."

"Then grab a few plates from the pantry and help me set the table!" She swatted his bum, sending him off toward the pantry to follow her request. "Love you," she singsonged as he went.

One by one, the family filtered in, with Elizabeth's and Kieran's families arriving to the flat shortly thereafter. They all thanked Sybil for such a wonderful breakfast but their voices were unable to hide the shock they felt as they bit into the food that was not only edible but rather delicious. The table was crowded with muffins, bacon, sausage, tea, coffee, fruit and porridge. They passed the meal back and forth, all of them discussing how wonderful it was to be together for the Holiday.

Sybil beamed as Tom held her hand underneath the table, stroking a thumb to her swollen stomach. He couldn't get enough of her lately, so filled with love as she carried the child they had made.

"Sybil, really, this is lovely dear." Helen commented, knowing she would have enjoyed the meal just as much even if she hadn't been allowed to watch someone else prepare it. A swell of pride was felt as she watched Sybil interact with the rest of the family while they enjoyed the young girl's meal. Mrs. Branson remembered the night she arrived and the nights leading up to their arrival when she doubted the girl her son had fallen in love with. Aristocratic girls don't fall in love with lower class Irish boys. Helen soon learned that Sybil was so much more than the home she grew up in and the family that raised her. She was respectable, polite, and never an ounce pretentious. If Helen was being honest with herself, Sybil was perfect for Tom and every bit what her son deserved.

After breakfast the family gathered in the living room, around the tree. A quilted tree skirt was hidden beneath mountains of gifts causing Sybil to hope the breakfast her and Tom made was enough. She had wanted to get everyone a gift as they had all done for one another but her and Tom knew that with a baby on the way it would be impossible. Luckily, his family was all too understanding, stopping at nothing when purchasing gifts for Sybil, Tom and the baby. They all remembered what it was like to be newly married with a baby on the way. After all, it wasn't about the gifts they received, but instead the love they felt when giving to others.

Sybil received a quilt from Mrs. Branson, one that Helen explained to be perfect for swaddling a newborn. Sybil looked at the intricate stitching and the lace hem that wrapped softly around the edges. She pulled the material into her chest, feeling how soft it was. She smiled, thinking how perfect it would be when the baby was finally here to enjoy such a gift. She also received a notebook, a change purse, and a Christening dress for the baby from the remaining siblings. As the day turned into night and Mrs. Branson began to cook dinner, Sybil watched with Tom as his nieces and nephews played with their new toys. It reminded Sybil of her own childhood Christmases back in the drawing room at Downton. The much larger room seemed just as littered as the current living room of Tom's parents home. Wrapping paper and toy boxes laid scattered about the room as Sybil watched Tom's niece Lucy share her new doll with her aunt.

"She's beautiful, Lucy. What have you named her?"

"Sybil!" Lucy exclaimed, raising the doll up as an offering.

Sybil laughed behind her hand as she leaned down to admire the little girl's toy. "No, silly girl. She needs a name that's all her own. Let's think..."

"Lucy!"

Sybil laughed again. Tom looked on in admiration, thinking how marvelous Sybil would be as a mother when their own child was finally welcomed into the world. "That's a pretty name. But how will we ever tell you two apart?"

"What about...ummmmm…Claire?"

"I think that is a beautiful name for such a pretty doll."

The toddler walked off, finding another family member to entertain. Sybil snuggled into Tom's shoulder, hiding her face as she laughed again, breathing him in as she did so. "She's great," she commented.

"You're great," he countered, placing a kiss to the crown of her head. "I can't wait for you to be a mam-"

"I can't wait for you to be a dad," she finished, sealing her admission with a kiss to her husband's lips. They lingered for perhaps a bit too long causing an awkward silence when they finally pulled away. Tom excused himself, going to grab another cup of coffee while Sybil was left to fester in the embarrassment he had left behind.

"What's this?" She asked, looking up as Tom approached her with a glass of milk and a paper wrapped package. It reminded her of her engagement ring that now rested so comfortably on her ring finger. "Tom…" She began, wondering what he had gotten her when they both promised not to exchange gifts.

He sighed, feeling the need to explain himself. "I wasn't looking but I happened upon it and knew it was worth it. I didn't spend much," he offered, knowing that was what was concerning her. That, and the fact that she didn't get him anything.

"I don't want anything," he said, almost as if reading her mind. The child she would soon bare was gift enough. "I just hope you like it."

"I'm sure I'll love it…" Her fingers toyed at the paper. She was as patient as she had ever been, not wanting to enjoy the gift too much when she knew she could not return such a favor. As she peeled back the paper, she recognized the cover, or at least the words printed upon it in black ink. She flipped through the book, remembering the last time she had read the novel by Jules Michelet. It was years ago on her way to London for her cotillion. "Tom…" She breathed out. Behind the cover were words she recognized but did not fully understand.

"I know you love it. I remember you signed it out on the ledger the same day I took my books out after first arriving. And you say you want to learn gaeilge so I figured-"

She cut him off with a kiss, loving him as best as she could. "It's perfect. Thank you!" She flipped through the book, vowing to devour each and every page. "I can't wait to-" She stopped, almost crying now. Tom laughed, kissing away a tear that had just fallen from the corner of her left eye. He knew and loved this part of her pregnancy which made her all the more honest and lovable with each passing month.

"You like it then?"

"I love it. And I love you. You make me so happy, Tom…" She was still crying now, but she welcomed the tears, secretly knowing he enjoyed the way they slicked her cheeks and highlighted the scarlet color they wore.

"Next Christmas we'll go to Downton, alright? I'm going to begin saving now and we can bring the baby…"

"We'll see."

"No, we will," he reassured her. "I know how much it'll mean to you and you need to see your family."

"I told you, Tom...you're my family now."

"I know that and I love you for it but they're still your family and they always will be." He sighed. "Please, let me do this for you."

"Alright," she stated simply, returning her attention to the children still on the floor.

"That's it then?"

"That's it," she breathed out. "I'm not going to argue you if you want to take me there. I'll go anywhere with you."

* * *

I can't tell you guys how much the reviews have meant to me. Knowing that you guys are reading and taking the time to leave your responses is such a comforting feeling when you spend time writing as much as I do. So thank you again! Please keep it up!

x. Elle


	18. Home

**A/N: **Everything from here on out is pretty much headcanon. I may use some of JF's plot lines but I will rewrite what he so clearly butchered. There is one storyline I will be ignoring completely and I will not even do it service by saying it (typing it?) aloud.

**Timeline:** Guess! (I'll tell you: Back at Downton for Mary and Matthew's wedding.)

**Song:** _Home_ - Foo Fighters

* * *

Sybil felt it, the smile Tom held as he watched her embrace her parents. She knew though, how he really felt for he had disclosed much of it on the train ride from Liverpool into Downton. It started small, with Sybil asking who he thought had sent them the money. Quite plainly, Tom responded saying that he didn't care who had sent the money and that he was glad that Sybil was going to be able to attend her sister's wedding.

What Sybil heard, however, was Tom's intense dislike for the place he was about to return to. She felt it, along with the familiar tug always evident to a girl when returning to the place that raised her. It was difficult, forging through her old life as she so greatly cherished her new. Dublin was home now, and Tom was her family, but there would always be a part of her that belonged at Downton.

It wasn't a fight or a disagreement, but Sybil felt the need to press a kiss to Tom's neck nonetheless. He smiled as he felt her lips, wanting and chaste against his skin. He wasn't mad at her because he wasn't mad at all, really. The things Tom was feeling were complex and part of him believed them to be forever unresolved. Nothing could ever change that he had fallen in love with and married the daughter of an Earl who had, with her own will, ran away with him to his hometown to get married. It was lovely and perfect and they were happy, but he knew that no like adjectives could make such a thing okay in her parent's mind.

This was all confirmed as he saw her, stepping out of the car to run to her father who accepted her with stiff arms. The look on Sybil's face and it's contrast with the way Lord Grantham so coldly accepted her kiss to his cheek brewed many feelings within Tom. He was happy for his wife that she was home for he knew the feeling well. At the same time, he was disgusted that a father could stop showing adoration for a girl he used to esteem to highly.

Tom knew what to expect but was told by a rather optimistic Sybil to think better of all of it. He did, but only because he would do anything she ever asked. The doubt crept in only when Carson returned, or attempted to return, the smile Tom sent his way. It was more of a smirk, a glance that read as all of the things Lord Grantham would never say. Lord Grantham was allowed to disapprove; it was his daughter Tom married. Somehow, Carson's disapproval meant more, like the betrayal of an allie when waiting hopefully on the last chance you are to be given.

"I had the maids prepare your old room and one of the guest rooms down the hall…"

Sybil stepped forward. The new footman had begun to take her and Tom's luggage up the stairs but he waited as the youngest Crawley daughter made her decision. "Well Tom and I are married, Mama, so we'll be sharing a room of course…"

Cora smiled, doing her best to allow her own happiness at seeing her daughter hide the anxiety such words were causing her husband. "Of course, dear. I only meant that you could choose what room you would like. I wasn't sure what you preferred."

Sybil's cheeks reddened. On instinct, she grabbed Tom's hand, holding it comfortably in her own. "Oh, right." She looked to Tom, wondering which room he'd prefer. She wanted to smile, but her blush only grew as she remembered a conversation they had had on their wedding night when Tom disclosed that he often fantasized about taking her in her own bed back at Downton.

"We'll take my old room, please…" Her voice trailed off, waiting for the footman standing on the landing of the staircase to give her his name. Mary rolled her eyes, watching as her baby sister returned to her old habits of showing genuine interest in people she had no business with.

"Alfred," the footman offered, unsure of how to react to this new girl.

She was a Lady, or at least she had been. They rarely discussed her downstairs and he only heard her name when serving the family in the dining room. She was pretty, that much he knew. She also talked differently and stood taller than her sisters despite being much shorter. She was petite, but he noticed the growing swell of her stomach hidden underneath the belt of her jacket. She didn't dress like a Lady but her looks were enough to distinguish her in a crowded room. She smiled, briefly, and usually at the man standing next to her. Albert had heard far more about him than he had about her. It was more proper for servants to talk about other servants than it was to talk about the family you worked for.

Mrs. Hughes had briefed the downstairs staff on the arrival of Sybil and Tom. She said little, though she was unable to hide the pull of a smile as she discussed their return. In all honesty, her reaction when she first saw them holding hands so many years ago was one of fear and not distaste. She rather liked Tom and Sybil had always been her favorite.

Mrs. Hughes knew from her time first working at Downton that Sybil was always different than her sisters and even much more different than the other societal ladies that often stopped by for tea. She was scared though and she still felt it, even when pulled aside by Cora to discuss wedding arrangements. Elsie felt it, the love and respect the two shared for one another. She also felt how quickly the house they were returning to was willing to threaten their love and take it all away.

Alfred helped the two young lovers up the stairs to Sybil's old room. It was the first time he had been inside the bedroom and he felt out of place, unaware that Tom was thinking the same thing. "Can I get you anything else, milady?"

"Sybil, please," she requested. "I really would like some milk. What time is dinner?"

"Six o'clock, I believe. The dressing gong will be rung sometime around 5…" He explained, wondering how much had changed since she had left and he had arrived. He resolved that the answer was not much and that she was just being polite.

"Can you do me a favor, Alfred?"

He nodded. "Anything, milady…"

Tom was unpacking already, ignoring the way this new footman addressed his wife. He smiled, the same way he had when Sybil first requested for pleasantries to be set aside, as Alfred continued to call her by her title. He remembered back to a day when he addressed her as the same, but then quickly forget, only knowing how easy it was for both of them to let such names go.

"Can I please have a glass of milk and while you're downstairs can you let Anna know that we will not be needing help when the gong rings?"

Alfred's heart dropped. Was it really his place to deliver such a message? "I suppose I could do that, milady. Anything else?"

Sybil shook her head. "No, thank you. You've been an awfully big help. I do hope you like it here," she added.

When Alfred returned, he set Sybil's glass of milk down on the end table, paying special attention not to bother the couple who had just been sharing a few kisses before he entered. They seemed nice enough, and it was all too clear how much they cared about one another. He loved his job and he understood how things worked but he didn't quite get the way looks were cast and words were whispered about these two.

"He's rather tall," Sybil said plainly, trying to rid her cheeks of the embarrassment they carried as Alfred saw her and her husband being rather intimate.

Tom laughed. He continued to unpack his suitcase, doing his best to figure out the armoire Sybil used to call her own so he would not have to ask her about the space they would share. Sybil could only smile, watching him acclimate for her sake and nothing else. "He is. I wonder what Carson had to say about it."

"All too much, I imagine." She paused. "How are you holding up?"

Tom sat on the edge of the bed now, watching as his wife opened up the door to the armoire revealing the dresses he used to admire her in. She flipped through them, her eyes settling on one he had commented on a few years ago. She wondered if it would still fit with the child, their child, growing steadily inside of her. "I'm fine, love."

"I know this is hard for you...I want to make it easy, really I do. And they seem to be coming around to us. Mama really looked happy to see you."

"She looked happy to see you," he correctly rather bluntly. He stopped himself, knowing she deserved better. "I'm happy that we're here. I know how you and Mary are and I want you to be there for her wedding. She was there for ours," Tom reasoned.

"I'm sorry this isn't what you wanted."

"Sybil, please…," he began. "I'm serious, love. We're here now. Really, I'm okay. Please don't worry about me."

Sybil had laid the black dress on the bed, now going over to her jewelry box to select an appropriate necklace. "I don't worry about you. I worry about them and you. I just want this to be easy-"

"For me or for you?," he snapped.

"Tom, please."

Tom buried his head in his hands. He pulled her to him so that she was standing between his legs. "You're right. I'm sorry...that really wasn't fair." He held her hands in his, bringing them up to his mouth so he could kiss her wedding ring. "I am trying, please know that."

"You haven't really been given a fair shot."

"I'm glad you think so. Your father would probably like me to know that I'm lucky I've been given a chance at all." He paused, thinking back to when he first helped her out of the Renault, the same car that brought them so close together. "Did you see the way he looked at you? At our child?"

"He was just shocked, is all. I think it's one thing to hear about it in a letter and another to see your youngest daughter expecting…"

Tom sighed. "I just don't want our child to grow up in a world where she's resented. That's not fair, y'know? They can hate me, but I don't want them to ever despise the child we created. This one or the next three," he said, referring to a few months ago when she had mentioned how many children she wanted. It was the exact some figure he had imagined her carrying and then baring for them to take care of together.

"They won't resent her," Sybil reasoned, her eyes looking down. She smiled; apparently Tom had wanted a girl as well. "They'll come around to us, I promise. I think it's just hard...they worry, you know. I can tell them and tell them how happy I am, how happy you make me and how wonderful of a man you are and how well you provide for me, but it's never enough." She breathed out deeply. "It's enough for me though," she whispered looking back up to him.

Tom pulled her in so that she was sitting on his lap. "I love you for saying that."

"It's true."

"I know." Another kiss to the temple causing Sybil to smile through it all. "I love you, crazy girl."

"I love you too," she whispered again, wondering if her voice would ever regain its volume while here in this place that used to be so familiar. Hiding a tear that threatened to spill down her cheeks she separated from him, walking behind him to where she had laid her dress down. "What are you wearing tonight?"

"One of my work suits, I suppose…"

"Okay."

Tom chuckled. "It's not as if I brought anything else. They're going to have a fit."

Sybil smiled mischievously. "Oh, absolutely." She paused and then: "But I'm sure you'll look handsome. You always do," she added for good measure.

"I'm guessing you're wearing that?," he asked, referring to the dress she was still staring at. Part of him saw it in her, the way her body, no matter what her mind said, found comfort in such uncomfortable frocks.

"I left my pants back in Dublin," she said, calmly and assertive. Both of them laughed, hearing the dressing gong ring out. "Help me, would you?"

Tom nodded, walking to where she stood. He helped her out of her dress, reveling as she stood before him in nothing but a bra and lace knickers. Her stomach was growing, swelling to the size it would soon need to be to accommodate the life inside of her. Tom was all too happy to help her into her dinner gown, knowing that for her to allow him to put her into such a dress was more confirmation of the progress they had made rather than the life she had left behind.

~!~

After dinner, Sybil and Tom returned to their room, forfeiting the tea being served in the drawing room so that Sybil could rest. She was exhausted, both from the conversations held during all three courses of a meal Tom was all too unsure of as well as the boat ride they had endured earlier that morning.

Sybil did not ask for Tom's help this time, instead using her own patience and his watching eyes to undress herself slowly. He watched in the way he always did, loving the way her skin was exposed to him as she stripped off her undergarments and got into her pale blue nightgown. She took her time with this part, loving how he stared at her changing body harboring the child they had made and loved already. She no longer wore a corset and he was thankful of the fact for many reasons. The most notable was the fact that the brassiere's she wore exposed her bare tummy to him, making him want to kiss the skin there as he so often did.

Sybil got into bed, leaning up on an outstretched arm to stare down at Tom. He was leaning against pillows he had propped against the headboard. Sybil smiled at his ability to get so comfortable encouraged only by her presence. "Apparently we're having guests tomorrow for dinner."

"Guests?"

"The Grey's. They're old family friends but Larry Grey used to be sweet on me."

"And you?"

"Oh god no," she explained. "He was never that much to look at and-"

Tom cut her off. "Good to know what you look for in a man."

Sybil swatted at his chest. "You'll see. He's awfully full of himself and not in the way I love about you," she stated, knowing she was teasing just as much as he was.

"Aye!"

Sybil smiled. She was nestled against him now, listening to the thud of his heart beneath the fabric of his undershirt. "He just wasn't much. He was my Bridget," she said with a chuckle, catching Tom's eyes to savor his reaction.

"Well then he really must be an arse-"

"Tom!" She paused, still suppressing a laugh. "He's a family friend and I have no doubt he's matured a bit, but he wasn't for me."

In response, Tom kissed her, breathing in deeply as he did so. She responded in kind, reaching up to stroke his cheek. As she pulled away, she smiled at him, causing him to do the same as he looked back down at her. "I promise to try and keep my mouth shut tomorrow," he said, knowing he was answering a question she could only think. "Even if this Grey kid is all over you."

"He won't be all over me," she reasoned. "His family will be here and I'm sure he knows I'm married now."

"I somehow doubt that will stop him."

"Says one persistent man about another."

"But I'm enough," Tom teased. "You said so your-"

Sybil cut him off, kissing him with all she had in her. She was still tired, and now her eyes felt heavy, made easy as she closed her eyes to savor the moment. They would have made love had they both not fallen asleep minutes later. Sybil curled further into Tom's side, needing and wanting him so much closer. It wasn't Dublin, but it felt like home with him nestling into her as he stroked her stomach.

* * *

I'm currently working on another fic that has been a few months in the making and that I have finally had the time to commit to paper after extensive planning. It is modern AU and I am extremely proud of it. I will be posting the first chapter of that soon but won't post the rest of the story until this one is complete. Just something to look forward, I suppose.

Thanks for reading! Please review if you feel so compelled.

x. Elle


	19. King and Lionheart

**A/N:** I am only posting because the lovely **dustedoffanoldie** requested that I do so and really, how can a girl say no when asked so nicely? So you all can thank her for this post. Also, I thought this chapter was much longer than it actually is. If I get a good amount of reviews I'll have the next chapter up sooner rather than later. Just some incentive. But nonetheless, enjoy!

**Timeline:** Still 3x01. After the dinner part with the Grey's.

**Song:** _King and Lionheart_ - Of Monsters and Men

* * *

He couldn't stop saying it: a multitude of "I'm sorry's" laced with whatever had been slipped in his drink. Sybil guessed it was some type of sedative, obtained by Larry from his grandfather's medical library. What she didn't know was how such jealousy could push a man, or rather a boy, to act so cruelly. This was only reiterated as Matthew helped her carry Tom up the stairs toward their bedroom.

As they entered the room, Sybil hit the dial of the lamp on the wall near the armoire as Matthew helped a woozy Tom onto the bed. Tom collapsed back, falling quickly asleep as his head continued to pound. "Sybil, I'm really sorry-" Matthew began, unsure of what else to say.

"Oh stop," she managed as she kicked off her shoes and began to remove her jewelery. "You didn't do this…"

"Yeah, but I feel bad all the same. Mary and I really want all of this to be as easy as possible for the both of you. You should have seen her going on about how beautiful your wedding was when she returned from Dublin. She couldn't stop talking about your gown and the vows you shared."

Sybil beamed, thinking back to it all. Her heart warmed, remembering every last detail of such a perfect day. "It was beautiful," she confirmed. "But thank you, really. And thank you for making Tom your best man, I know he probably wasn't your first choice-"

"He's a good man, Sybil. And I meant what I said: we have to stick together if we're brave enough to marry into this family," he chided causing Sybil to smile.

"Well thank you, really. It means a lot to the both of us."

"Of course. Now are you going to be okay here? Do you want me to call for Dr. Clarkson? Or send Anna up, perhaps?"

Sybil smiled, shaking her head. "I did used to be a nurse. I think I can manage my drugged husband."

"Right," Matthew mentioned with a chuckle. He disappeared out the door, leaving a dozed off Tom to be cared for by his worried wife.

"Tom," she whispered, pressing her palm to his forehead to feel the heat radiating off his skin. "You're burning up, love," she said, as more of a note to herself rather than an observation for him to hear. "God, Tom…" Her voice was suddenly filled with worry, cracking as thoughts of him hurt flashed violently across her mind.

Tom opened his eyes the best he could, staring up at her. "I'm sorry." There it was again, two words she was all too tired of hearing.

"I love you," she whispered. Her voice was shaking as she pushed at his hairline, causing his fringe to fall back away from his eyes. "I'm sorry this happened."

Tom could only shake his head, suddenly feeling all the more weak. "You didn't do it. I should be lucky my wife is a nurse...I'll be fine, love."

"Your temperature is high. Let's get you out of these clothes, okay?" She did as she had asked, stripping Tom of his shoes and socks, then the jacket he wore followed by his tweed vest and button up shirt. The undershirt he wore was soaked through, a clear sign that his body was doing its best to detoxify naturally. Sybil removed that too leaving him in his trousers as he sprawled out on her childhood bed.

Anna returned moments later, standing at the door to wait for Sybil to notice her. Sybil was pressing a cool washcloth to her husband's face, her breathing falling as his temperature failed to do so.

"Milady," Anna choked out. "I brought Mr. Branson a glass of water and a cup of tea for you as well."

"Oh," Sybil breathed out, now seeing the housemaid at the door. "Thank you, Anna."

Anna disappeared just as Matthew had done before, leaving Sybil to tend to her husband again. As she did so, he slowly gained his energy back. It wasn't until he got up and ran to the loo, retching the contents of his stomach into the porcelain bowl that his eyes widened to their usual circumference. He said it again: "I'm sorry, love."

Sybil could only smile, patting his back as he collapsed against the basin of the tub. Maybe it was the pregnancy, or perhaps the sleep she still had yet to catch up on but she was crying now, weighty tears dribbling down her cheeks. "You scared me, Tom."

He reached up, doing his best to wipe away her tears with his thumbs. "Please don't cry. Really, this isn't worth it."

There it was: the wit his voice usually carried when alcohol and pills had not ruined his night. "You're always worth it. I'm serious, Tom. You scared me. You got so angry and then your eyes were glossing over…"

He reached for her, kissing the crown of his head as he drew her near. "I'm right here, love. I'm actually feeling better thanks to you." His lips found hers and they were lost, if only for a moment, forgetting about jealous young boys and the others who had recently judged them.

"I hate him," she muttered, causing Tom's eyes to widen. "What?"

"You don't hate anyone. Don't say that." He paused. "I won't let him ruin you."

"No, of course not," she mused. "That's your job." Sybil sighed. She smoothed out the material of her dress, wishing mostly that Tom could rid her of the frock in the same way she had just helped him to undress. "I'm going to help you into bed and then head back downstairs. I want to get you more water…"

"You're not going to talk to him," he warned, already knowing what she was up to.

Sybil smiled, wishing her family could see them now. "Nevermind you." How could you stop two people who were so utterly comfortable with one another from being together? Surely that counted for something.

She kissed his nose before helping him stand up. They walked, slowly at first, then more steadily as Tom regained his balance. As she helped him into bed, he held onto her, not quite wanting to let her go to face his battles. He was sure if he said something she'd only assure him that his battles were her battles too now.

Sybil slipped out, leaving Tom in their room to rest. Slowly, she shut the door behind her, allowing the more animated hallway to brush at her eyes. Without thinking she walked swiftly toward the staircase. Sybil heard voices below, ones she so desperately wanted to silence. Standing tall, she descended the staircase, walking toward the sound of the voices congregating in the hall.

Larry stood, kissing her mother's hand as his own mother and father talked to Robert. They started for the door, stopped only when Sybil called out: "Larry! Larry, wait!"

He did, leaving the rest of the house's guests to stand by and watch. "Sybil, please-" Robert attempted, doing his best to avoid a fight in the middle of the foyer. He knew all too well what his daughter was capable of. He saw it when he witnessed her step out of the car with the help of her new husband, carrying their child, just days ago.

"No, Papa," she said, her voice sounding much more like a warning than a plea. "I need to say this and Larry needs to hear it."

As a challenge, Larry stepped into her. "Go on," he teased, hoping he was getting to her more than he ever would.

"You are despicable! I do not know who you think you are coming into my parent's house and practically poisoning my husband-"

"I didn't-"

"Was I finished?" Sybil roared. "Regardless, I am disgusted that you call yourself a man and then would do such a thing. You were actually a really nice boy when we were younger, Larry. I didn't want you then and I most certainly do not want you now, but you were nice. I pray to God you are forgiven. I forgive you," she offered, her voice still shaky. "But please do not think I will ever forget how you acted tonight. If this was your plan to get me to suddenly realize feelings I clearly never had you are even more delusional than I thought."

Sybil went to walk away, but stopped herself. She felt them, the eyes of all in the foyer on her as she started for the stairs. She stopped though, turning back to Mr. and Mrs. Grey. "Lord and Lady Merton, thank you so much for coming tonight. I'd ask you to excuse my husband but I hope you know better than to blame him for such a thing."

She turned on her heel and ran back upstairs, hoping she could catch Tom before he fell back asleep. What she left behind was far more than a group of confused faces. The tension in the air rose and then faltered, allowing the entire Grey family to politely excuse themselves out the door.

* * *

Thank you for reading! Please review if you're feeling so inclined.

Also, I will be posting the first chapter of my new fic this weekend. It's called "Beautiful Collisions" and I will of course advertise it on tumblr as per usual. This story has been a few months in the making and I've worked hard to get it to where I want it to be for posting. I really can't wait for you guys to read it.

x. Elle


	20. You Were Made For Me

**Timeline:** Still 3x01.

**Song:** _You Were Made For Me_ - Augustana

* * *

Propped up against a pillow, Sybil leaned back into the headboard. Her eyes danced across the page of a book she had picked up from her father's library. Like the memories this house held, she was sure she had read it a million times but somehow had forgotten the ending. She wished it was a happy one so she could go to sleep knowing there was good in the world.

Tom had left after dinner. He was off to Crawley House to mollify the current situation between Mary and Matthew. Happy he was going but wanting him to herself that night, she walked him to the door before stopping into the library to pick up the book she was currently enveloped in. The pages she skimmed did nothing for her the way Tom would. He had been gone for almost two hours now and she hoped he would return soon so she could have him before bed.

She was just managing to drift off when she heard the door creak open, revealing a rather jovial Tom. "All is well, I hope?"

The sound of her voice urged Tom to shut and lock the door. He turned around, staring at her still awake, reading a book. "I think so," he began. "I walked back with Matthew. Him and Mary are talking now, I think."

"Talking? Is Mary aware of this? She would never see him the night before her wedding."

Tom laughed, beginning to get out of his suit. "She seemed to be willing to talk. So yes, I'd say she's aware." Now it was Sybil's turn to watch him undress. He must have not known, for he was rather hasty with the process. All too quickly for Sybil's liking he was in his pajama bottoms, walking toward her to get into bed. She would have complained if he didn't immediately grab her face to kiss her lips. She smiled against him, needing this more than he could have imagined.

"You're a good man, Tom Branson."

"I didn't do anything Matthew wouldn't have done for me. I'm appreciative of the offer he gave me the other night. He didn't need to do that but I think already your father is starting to be kinder to me because of it…"

"He's nice to you because you've been so well behaved," she teased before kissing the corner of his mouth. "Besides, I talked to Matthew the other night and he was all too happy to extend the offer. He's right. This is a tough family to marry into and you boys need to stick together."

"Says one of the Crawley girls," Tom quipped. "What are you reading?"

Sybil looked at the cover of the book she was holding in her hands. "Something on the Boer War. I don't even know what I grabbed. I just wanted something to keep me busy until you got home."

"Waiting for something?" Tom teased, nipping at her lips again. She let the book she was holding fall out of her hands, down into her lap and then off the bed completely as she leaned into him, grabbing her face in his hands.

"Mhm," she whispered in between kisses. After being married for close to eight months and being pregnant for almost as long, Sybil was still unable to tell Tom exactly what she wanted. He saw it though, painted across her face in a deep crimson.

"I want you too," he said in quick agreement. Tom knew all of the words Sybil would never say.

"We haven't been together since Dublin," she reasoned, suddenly feeling the need to explain her position in a way that Tom had never needed nor wanted. He felt her these past few days reverting to the Lady she used to be. She would always be that girl to him, with or without the frocks and false pretenses.

"It's been two nights, Syb. We were both exhausted the first night and I was practically drunk last night-"

"I know, I just-" She paused, unable to say it. "I want you," she whispered gaining the courage. It caused a shiver down her spine, causing her to buck down into him as it hit her.

Sex had been different since she found out she was pregnant; Tom was even more cautious than Sybil. He had read a book, the way he always did when there was something he did not fully understand. In it, he found himself encouraged to remind Sybil to never be on her back too long, to take showers instead of baths, and to get plenty of rest.

Their exploration of one another was still so new, and once again Sybil and Tom found it changing to accommodate the ever growing life inside of her. It made making love to Tom all the more exciting as everything was now gradual and calculated.

"Tom, pleaseee," she begged. "Don't you want me?"

It was a bold question, one that caused Tom's eyes to widen as he pulled away from her neck. "Of course I want you, love. I told you, I'm always wanting you."

"Me too," she agreed. Sybil moved up so that she was straddling Tom. Hungrily, she leaned into him again, nipping at his lips while her hands played with the hair at the base of his neck. She chewed lightly at his bottom lip causing him to moan into her mouth. His reaction only made her smile, something she knew he would return, even with her eyes closed.

Tom's lips were attacking her neck now, making sure not to leave a mark. Sybil remembered the first time she saw it, the red and purple wine-like stain on her collarbone evident of the late night lovemaking her and her then fiance had shared. She enjoyed it then, when the cool Autumn and Winter months of Dublin allowed her to wear scarves and sweaters that covered up such intimacy. Now, in the dead of Spring as they lay on the bed she used to sleep in as a child, Sybil found herself not wanting a mark. It was something she did not want to have to explain away.

When he stopped her, Sybil's face fell, thinking that maybe he wanted to stop. Instead, he pulled at the hem of her nightgown which rested at her hips now from moments of grinding against him. The lace knickers she wore were peach, covering only her most private areas. He wanted to kiss her there and everywhere else but he stopped himself, resolving to take it all so slow.

Sybil smiled into him, wrapping her arms around his head as he kissed a path down toward the valley of her breasts. She giggled and then cooed as he took one nipple in his mouth, using his hand to tweak the other. Immediately, Sybil hardened in his hand as he palmed her breast. She dropped her head back, loving how sensitive her body was to his touch now that she was carrying his child.

"Tom," she began. She stopped, unable to speak as Tom removed her brassiere to reveal her chest enlarged because of the pregnancy. He kissed one breast, then the other before staring back up at her to answer her with his eyes. "We can do all of that after, okay?"

Tom could only laugh. Sybil had never been this wanton of him, nor this forward when it came to exactly what she wanted. He admired her determination, his feelings shown so clearly by the bulge in his pajama pants rubbing up against her crotch.

Feeling him beneath her, Sybil ground down into him. Her arms were still draped lazily around his shoulders as he instinctively bucked up toward her. She giggled, doing it again only to feel him moan as the pressure in his trousers grew to be too much.

Sybil stood up, knowing the release of her weight against his hips would be just as deliciously painful as the feel of her body rubbing against him. A teasing smile stretched across her cheeks as she rid him, slowly of course, of the pajama bottoms he wore. Next came his underwear, finally allowing his rock hard member to spring free and attempt to rest against his lower abdomen.

Any other time, Sybil would have kissed him there and then pleasured him before milking him to a climax. Slowly, such an oral fixation had become a favorite of hers since that night so many months ago back in Dublin. Now, standing before him in nothing but her lace knickers, she felt as naked as she could have been. His eyes stripped her of the garment while his hands echoed their plea, peeling the fabric off of her hips so that it could pool at her ankles. Sybil kicked them off and Tom watched as they hit the light fixture on the wall. Both lovers laughed as Sybil got into bed with her husband.

"Syb, why don't we try you on top?"

"What?" she croaked out. They had tried such a task a week ago and it ended with Sybil in tears. She couldn't exactly get the momentum or the energy down to allow her husband to stiffly slide in and out of her. Never one to give up, she felt defeated and quickly rolled over to cry leaving Tom no other option but to mollify her as his stiff cock pressed into her lower back, begging for release.

"I just don't want you on your back for too long. Or we could try it from-"

"Don't even say that, Tom Branson. You know I like to look at you when we make love…" Her face fell, prompting Tom to lift her chin with his thumb and index finger. As her eyes met his, he kissed her nose. "Okay," she breathed out.

They didn't exchange anymore words. Sybil straddled her husband now, squatting above his chest so she could take him in her hands and point him toward her wet core. Tom did his best to guide himself there, though he found himself easily distracted by her breasts just inches away from his face.

When he entered her, Sybil cried out. She still wasn't used to the feeling of having all of him inside of her, especially not from this angle with the weight of her body giving her no other options but to take him fully. Slowly, and with a look of pure determination on her face, she began to rock into him, inviting his length in and out of her wet folds. Tom helped as best he could, but soon found himself using his thumb to rub down on her clit. Sybil jerked as she first felt him there, but then invited his teasing as it brought her closer to a climax she so hopelessly craved.

She swelled with confidence when she saw his face, dropped back to accompany the ragged breathing heaving from his chest. The air he inhaled made his lips dry. Sybil kissed them, feeling the moist confines of her mouth sooth his shin. Clearly she was doing something right as this was the most ecstasy either had experienced since their first time together. The climax they both reached moments later hit them both in relief and rapture. It was sealed with a chaste kiss closing off the distance between them as Sybil rolled off of Tom and onto her back.

If she wasn't exhausted before she was now, her chest heaving and her now short hair undoubtedly frizzy. When she caught her breath, she leaned back into Tom, assuming the position she always took before they fell asleep with her head precariously placed on his chest. Tom kissed the top of her head and then brought the finger tracing circles on the tufts of hair on his lower abdomen up to be kissed.

"We just made love in my childhood bedroom," Sybil breathed out softly, unable to suppress the laugh she felt building as she said such a thing. "And I do believe that is the best it's ever been…"

Tom nodded. He kissed her lips once, then three times, unable to get enough of her. "I would agree with you there," he reasoned. "God Sybil, that was…" But he was unable to finish. There were no words to describe the feelings he had watching her move above him so gracefully.

Sybil giggled into his shoulder. "Thank you, Tom."

"Can I be crass for a moment?"

Sybil looked up to him. "I'm sure you will be with or without my permission," she said, arching an eyebrow in the process.

"I have dreamed of taking you in this bed for years now. I mean, I never knew what your bedroom even looked like but I imagined us sneaking around and you inviting me up here-"

"Me too," Sybil stated plainly.

The words caused Tom to shift upward in the bed. She could only smirk, knowing all too well what her words had done. "You lie," he challenged.

Sybil continued to smile as she joined him to sit up on the mattress. "I do not! I have nothing to lose anymore. I was a young woman then. A girl can dream, can't she?"

"You're unbelievable."

"You love me," she quipped.

"I do."

"Tom…"

He looked down at her now, all of her body pressed against him while her backside was covered by the plush material of the comforter. Their bodies appeared in shades of orange as they fireplace continued to crackle on.

"Yeah?" He managed when he was finally able to get over how beautiful she looked staring up at him.

"It's important you know how much I wanted you all those years. And how I know it wasn't fair that I kept silent for so long and denied you my feelings, really, it wasn't, but that doesn't mean they weren't there. I know I've said it before and I know you say you believe me but it's important to me that you really get it. That you feel that I wanted you just as much as you wanted me."

"I feel it."

"You promise?"

"I feel it everyday. And I felt it then, too," he added. "I wasn't stupid or blind. You may have said one thing but your heart told another. I wasn't going to wait for a girl that didn't love me, but you, I'd wait forever for. Part of me thinks this is all so surreal, that I'll wake up and be working back in the garage with you visiting in between work shifts or after dinner."

"It's real, love. Believe it."

A silence settled over them. Tom felt Sybil soften into him, signaling she was almost ready to fall asleep. "I just made love to you in your childhood bed," he breathed out. The thought, both true and perverse sent them both laughing. As it all settled down, Sybil resumed her previous position, nestled into the crook of Tom's shoulder. A final kiss sent them both to sleep, only to be woken the next morning, still naked, when a housemaid entered their room to open the blinds and invite the morning sun inside.

* * *

WOW! All of the reviews I got last chapter were amazing! You guys are amazing! I was speechless by how many of you responded! Challenge: can we keep it up?

Seriously though, I am forever thankful for the time people take reading this and then sharing their thoughts with me. I know I say it a lot but at the same time I feel like I don't say it enough. So **thank you.**

x. Elle


	21. Not With Haste

**A/N:** I am thankful to everyone who reviews but please understand that the ideas written about in this fic are mine and I do not appreciate them being shopped to other authors for consideration. This is my headcanon and I'd like it to remain as such. Thank you!

**Timeline:** 3x01. Morning of Mary's wedding.

**Song:** _Not With Haste_ - Mumford and Sons

* * *

A knock sounded at the door. Sybil sat back on the chair of her vanity, staring at the wood separating her from the outside world. Her and Tom had awoken early to share a breakfast in bed. They discussed the wedding they were about to attend, with Tom relaying to Sybil how her own grandmother had forced him into a morning suit. Sybil could only laugh, kissing his lips as if to tell him a secret she couldn't keep: that she was rather excited to see him so dressed up.

"Yes?" Sybil called out, hoping it was Anna or Edith and not her father or mother. She was wearing undergarments Tom had carefully helped her to get into after they both got out of the shower. Atop such elegant pieces she wore her soft silk robe, draped lazily to reveal her swollen stomach if she sat a certain way.

"Sybil, darling, may I come in?"

Sybil stood up and walked to the door to invite her sister in. She hoped that Tom had heard the exchange from his place shaving in the bathroom. He often walked around their flat in Dublin in nothing but underwear, sometimes in just a towel, and sometimes naked. The latter made Sybil blush, despite being her favorite view of him. There was a comfort between the two of them, no matter how uneven.

"Mary, is everything alright?"

Mary could only smile. "I was up early and I still have an hour before I have to get ready. I brought us some tea. I figured we could chat...if you weren't busy," she added.

Sybil smiled. She opened the door, smiling as she saw Mary with tea and milk. A part of her wanted to laugh, thinking this was quite possibly the first time she had ever seen her sister carrying a tray. "Of course."

The girls walked into the room. Sybil shut the door behind them, suddenly wondering where Edith was. Sometimes Sybil felt bad for the relationship her and Mary shared that Edith seemed to lack with her two sisters. Then, as her sister often was there to comfort her, even on the day of her wedding, Sybil felt more guilty for ever doubting such a bond.

Sybil poured them both a cup of tea, resolving to finish it quickly so she could begin to powder her face. All thoughts of getting ready were soon lost though, as the two sisters made small talk about the wedding, Mary's conversation with Matthew last night and then finally how Sybil's pregnancy was going.

"Papa wasn't too thrilled, as you can imagine. I mean, the rest of us were but I think for him it was like the final nail in coffin."

"I'm surprised it didn't happen sooner..." Sybil began. She smirked as her sister gave her the exact reaction she had expected.

"Sybil!"

"What? I'm a married woman. I have no shame in what I just said."

"Well it seems married life has done you well," Mary said, smirking before allowing her pursed lips to disappear in her tea cup.

"So well."

"Sybil, darling, honestly!" Mary's voice objected.

"Stop being a prude, Mary! You mean to tell me you and Matthew haven't been fooling around this entire time? Hell, you two were fooling around when Lavinia was still here..."

"Sybil Crawley! That is inappropriate!"

Sybil finished her tea, setting the porcelain cup down on the small dish it was handed to her on. "You're laughing! You know it's true. And it's Sybil Branson now. I haven't been a Crawley for a very long time."

Mary sat forward on the love seat. "I suppose you haven't." She paused. Something in her urged her to ask a question she already knew the answer to. It was written all over Sybil's face, and in the scattered clothing thrown about the room. Mary couldn't contain the smile she felt, no matter how bold, as she saw the evidence of her sister's marriage around the room her and her husband inhabited. She remembered hearing how Sybil and Tom had rejected the help of the staff when first arriving, something that earned them an eye roll as Mary wondered how in the world Sybil was going to change into one of her old gowns. She stopped wondering now, realizing she had far more help than Mary could ever imagine. The same help was evident with Mary knowing all too well that no gown could be unzipped by the same lady wearing it. "You're happy then? I mean really and truly happy?"

The younger sister beamed, not needing to construct an answer. With such strong feelings, her mind was often outweighed by her heart and the space she held for Tom within herself. "The happiest. I'm in love. I love where we live and our routine and my life, really" She explained. "It's perfect."

"They'll have to come see it," Mary said, as more of an assurance than a wish.

"I won't hold my breath."

In a way that only a sister can, Mary threw her handkerchief at her sister, watching as the soft cotton hit Sybil's arm and then floated down to the floor. As it hit the carpet, Tom walked out of the bathroom, his body covered in a towel. Mary looked away, doing her best to be modest in such a situation. She had yelled at Matthew the other day for being just as bold, but a part of her grew to be warm as she realized how comfortable such an action would be tomorrow.

"Syb, where did you put that morning jacket?" Tom stopped, looking up. He too avoided Mary's gaze, appreciative of her manners as he bounded into the room and made himself busy.

"It's in my dress bag, love," Sybil said, pointing to the armoire.

"Thank you." Tom pressed a kiss to her lips. He was thankful Mary was still staring at the wall, gazing at a painting he was all too sure had hung in this room since before Sybil was born. Holding onto the knot of the towel resting low on his hips, he grabbed the entire dress bag and disappeared back into the bathroom.

Mary finally looked up, her cheeks painted a deep crimson. "Syb?" she asked, never before hearing her sister's name shortened.

"Well he hasn't called me Lady Sybil in quite some time. It's not like I call him Branson anymore. We stopped that a long time ago..." Sybil said, teasing.

"How long was all of this going on?" Mary asked, her curiosity finally presenting itself. In all honesty, it was a question she had been wanting to ask since she first saw Sybil and Tom outside the garage. When their grandmother had first mentioned Sybil possibly hiding a beau, Mary could only brush off the idea. As she saw them, the way he looked at her for her to only return his gaze, Mary knew that Tom was much more than just a beau to her baby sister. It was reassured when Sybil grew defensive, protecting a boy Mary only barely knew. She saw the same intense look as Sybil and Tom shared their vows back at their wedding in September.

"Really, Mary..." Sybil began. She stopped herself, hoping her sister's defensiveness would cut her off before she was forced to explain.

"I'm just curious!" Mary explained, granting Sybil's wish. "Honestly. I'm not judging," she reassured.

Sybil sighed. She stood up and joined her sister on the loveseat, as if to tell her a secret when in a crowded room. "After the counting of the vote I was out at the garage a few times a week. Whenever I could manage. Of course at this time I had told myself we were just friends...and I think I really truly believed that for awhile..."

"Sybil you were 17!" Mary offered, her draw dropping in shock. "And you lied to me!"

"I didn't just lie to you, Mary! I was lying to myself too. And bully for all of that age nonsense. He was only 20! It was stupid but I don't regret it. Those were some of the best nights of my life."

"Sybil! Again!"

Sybil realized what she had done by describing the time of day. Her cheeks blushed, realizing how intimate those moments of no touching and only sincere words truly were. "We only ever talked. I was pure until we went to Ireland!"

"You didn't wait? Oh lord..."

"I did wait. I found the man I wanted to marry and I waited a very long time for him. Isn't that enough?" Her words were simple and they meant just as much to Mary as they did to Sybil. Mary was right: she couldn't judge. She thought back to the Turkish gentleman and the way she had never loved anything more than the way he smiled at her. There was so much more evidence in the love Sybil and Tom shared, and it made believing such a thing much easier.

"Well I suppose it'll have to be," Mary sighed, feigning the joy she felt for Sybil.

"Are you nervous?" Sybil said, smirking as she did so. Both sisters new exactly what she was referring to.

"I am not discussing this with my baby sister."

"Well you baby sister is having a baby..."

"Ha ha," Mary joked, forcing a laugh. She swallowed, suddenly thinking seriously about the matter at hand. "I suppose I am. This didn't exactly work out last time." No matter how far in the past she pushed her mistakes, it always reared it's head. Mary believed that to share such an event with Matthew would be to abolish it completely but she never forgot the way Kemal cried out and then collapsed against her in pain and not bliss.

"It's the best when you're in love," Sybil assured. Both girls blushed: Mary, because her sister knew far more than she did and Sybil out of boldness and pride.

"Does it though?"

"Mary, I wouldn't lie to you. Next to reading it's my favorite pastime."

"Ireland has certainly changed you," Mary stated plainly.

Sybil sat forward, grabbing her sister's hands. "Just don't worry. Matthew loves you. He'll be loving, no doubt."

"I suppose my baby sister isn't a baby anymore...Are you coming in to my room to watch me get ready? I mean, will you please," she begged with utter kindness. "I don't know if I can handle Mama and Edith alone."

Sybil giggled. "I'll wait for Tom to leave and then I'll come. But do call if you need me sooner, alright?"

Mary smiled, kissing her sister's cheek. Sybil watched her go. When she was gone, Sybil stared at the tray left on the small table by the window and how it exemplified that perhaps Mary was still the same girl she had always been.

"Will she ever approve?"

Sybil swiveled, staring at her now fully dressed husband. He wore the tailored jacket that once belonged to Matthew. His cheeks were smooth and his hair slicked back the way it used to be when he worked in the house and wasn't just visiting. "She doesn't disapprove, I actually think she's really beginning to like you very much, she just doesn't understand it."

Tom stepped into her, pulling her close. "And did you have to tell her we made love before our wedding night? Secrets in this house are rarely secrets for long..." he reminded.

"She's my sister!" Sybil defended. "I think she was actually more upset her wedding gifts weren't as big of a surprise as she had hoped," Sybil quipped causing them both to smirk. "And besides she's almost a married woman. Plus! We kept us hidden for years. I don't think that's anything she'll want to share...you look dashing," she added, no longer wanting to discuss a secret she cherished.

Tom pulled at the stiff collar. "I hate this coat." In his hand was the top hat Matthew's mother insist he grab. When he asked Matthew about it, he was assured the hat would never be worn, but instead was meant to be held in pictures in the same way girls would hold their handbags.

"But you look so handsome in it," Sybil confirmed, placing a passionate kiss to his lips.

"I can't believe I have to sit at the head table," he murmured, staring out the window.

"Hey, I'm going to be right there, okay?" Tom looked down to her, seeing the pleading in her eyes. "Do it for me?"

He sighed. "Trust me, love, that's the only reason I'm doing it.".

~!~

As Mary and Matthew said their vows and promised things to one another that only they could understand, Sybil stared at Tom, smiling as she remembered the same things he did. Everything about today was a reminder of the wedding they had nearly a year ago. When Mary and Matthew finished and the ceremony was over, they both continued to stare, Sybil finally laughing as Tom made a silly face her way. The entire congregation would have stared if they weren't so wrapped up in Mary and her new husband walking back down the aisle and out of the church.

Sybil was thankful for the attention her sister was getting for it allowed her and Tom some peace and quiet when the town would otherwise have many questions for him. Very few people bought the story of this young man being from the same Branson family from Cambridge. His accent was just as telling as the way him and Sybil seemed to be so in love. Arranged marriages, despite the one of the Lord and Lady whose house the reception was held in, rarely held such respect and adoration between two people.

A car picked each of them up, with Tom insisting he ride with Sybil back to the house. She smiled, loving how much more protective he was becoming of her. Usually such an insistence would cause her to grow irritated in the way that her father's comments on one of her gowns from her teenage years would have made her stomach drop. Instead, she loved the feeling of him loving her, pressing his palm into her back as he kissed her cheek and led them to the waiting car.

Part of her wanted to walk, to hold his hand and have some alone time on the way back to the house, but they knew that such a thing was not possible in the currently crowded streets. The backseat of the Rolls Royce provided them a few minutes of private silence.

"The ceremony was beautiful…" Sybil began.

"You okay?" He asked, already knowing the answer.

She nodded, continuing to look out onto the street as the driver brought them closer to Downton. Her look said it all, denying his question and in doing so, affirming what he only knew to be true.

"I'm sure we can make an excuse to go up early. We can stay for dinner and then steal away-"

"Oh god no," she spit out, cutting him off. "I'm so happy for Mary," Sybil beamed. "She looked stunning and I want to see them dance and see some old friends."

"Do you want me there?"

Sybil softened, realizing that what she thought him to think was true was quite possibly not what he worried about. She touched a palm to his cheek, caressing his skin to reassure him of things she was positive he should have already known. "Tom, you are my husband. I want nothing more than to go to this wedding party and have fun with you, alright? I want to show you off to the world, m'love…"

The chauffeur stood outside the car now, waiting for the moment occurring inside to end. Though he paid little attention to the elderly man with his back to the car, Tom couldn't remember a time when he was forced to let an intimate moment finish inside the Renault. He only remembered times Sybil's questions had practically asked him to take the back roads home, giving them more time to get to know one another.

"I just don't want this to be hard for you. I know how long your family has been waiting for this and I know how close you and Mary are. I want you to have a good time."

Sybil kissed him, wanting to do so much more but knowing they could not hold up the line of cars behind them more than they already had. "I will have the best time, but I need you by my side," she stated plainly.

They stepped out of the car, walking into the house hand in hand. Sybil shifted against Tom, wrapping her arm around his bicep while her other hand rubbed at her stomach. It was a habit she had lately, one Tom loved to watch. It was almost as if she was inviting the baby into the room, reminding those even those who wanted to ignore her child, that she was more than welcome in this world.

Mary and Matthew had already walked into the room, allowing Tom and Sybil to casually stroll in and find their seats. Alfred walked over to them, offering Tom a glass of champagne. He walked away and returned, presenting Sybil a glass of milk on a silver platter. Both her and Tom laughed, Sybil quickly taking the glass from Alfred before calling him a "doll." He assured her it was her pleasure as he walked away, watching the youngest Crawley sister sip at her favorite pregnancy treat.

Dinner was served, causing Tom to thank that the plates were pre dressed. He was exhausted, allowing others to wait on him these past few nights. It was nice to get a plate and not have to worry about anything other than seconds. As they ate, him and Sybil discussed the current article he was writing for work and how she had an interview at a local hospital on the day that they got back to Dublin.

Though they were both oblivious, people did stare. Girls Sybil used to call friends, for she had no other names for the girls she talked to at her parent's parties, stared at Tom. Thankfully the war had made visits few and far between so they had no time to recognize him as a servant. They saw he was handsome, with a sly smile and a nice build. They also saw the way Sybil was so utterly infatuated with a boy they had heard very little of before hearing of their marriage.

Neither Sybil nor Tom paid attention to them, only managing to stare at one another as they swayed on the dance floor after Mary and Matthew's first dance. They seemed to move with much more enthusiasm than the other couples, with Sybil laughing into Tom's shoulder as he spun her around. "Don't get me sick," she warned, secretly loving the way he held her so close after sending her off spinning.

"Oh, never," he teased. "You look beautiful," he whispered in her ear, as the orchestra played on. "You're putting Mary to shame."

She swatted at his chest. "Oh, shush!" She laughed again, tipping her head back as they continued to dance.

"Mind if I cut in, Tom?"

Lord Grantham's voice separated the young couple, causing their feet to still as Sybil's laughter died off. Her mouth dropped as well, staring from her husband to her father, now towering above them.

"Uh, yes," Sybil managed, not wanting to be rude. Reluctantly, as if signaling she had made the wrong choice, she let go of Tom slowly, her body not yet wanting to part from his. She did though, allowing her father to grab her hand before putting his hand on her waist.

Sybil shivered, the contact sending such mixed emotions. Years ago, his touch would have calmed her, but that was Tom's job now, something her father had given up when he refused to accept the love she felt so ardently. "You look gorgeous, my darling," Robert offered into his daughter's ear. They were moving now, though Sybil refused to call it dancing. As if she was the little girl she used to be, not yet touched by the realities of the world, her father guided her around the dancefloor, pushing her where she needed to go exactly when she needed to be there.

"Mary looks stunning," Sybil whispered not yet meeting her father's eyes. She was only saying what she was sure he was thinking. All her life she had known how her father felt about his eldest daughter. It was something that was perhaps more clear to her than Edith or even her mother. Sybil didn't crave the attention the way that Edith did, but she was aware of the lack of such an emotion when it came to the house she was raised in. Perhaps it was what pushed her downstairs to form relationships they all disapproved of.

"How are you feeling?" he asked. It was the first time he had mentioned the growing life inside of her.

Sybil finally looked up. "Fine," she whispered, thankful she could even manage that.

"Tom's been behaving…"

Sybil shook her head, looking down to the ground. "He's always behaved, Papa. He has far more manners than any of you in this room. He just doesn't agree with your politics."

"And what about you? Are you a Republican now?"

"I want the Irish people to have a free state, yes. I want my child to know that the place she was conceived and the place she comes from is a strong country capable of self-governance. I want England to stop the violence…"

"Need I remind you that it is all doubled sided?"

"No, you needn't. I know how it is in Ireland because it is much like it was in South Africa, Papa. They respond with violence because they have no other option. Our people don't LISTEN," she emphasized.

"I'm listening now," he stated, knowing it was the only way to calm her down. "Sybil-"

"No, because it's too late."

"For you and me or for Ireland?"

"I don't know," she whispered, looking over his shoulder. Her eyes, now welling with tears, caught onto Tom's. He was talking to Matthew and one of Matthew's relatives but he saw her, and suddenly the smile he held dropped as he sipped at his crystal flute. He searched her features for a sign that she wanted to be rescued but she remained, blinking away a tear before returning her attention to her father. "It was a beautiful wedding, Papa," she whispered before running away. Her feet only felt this pull here.

As she went, Robert realized what wedding his daughter was talking about.

Tom found her, sitting at the bottom of the staircase, her head in her hands. He pulled her into him, but it was clear that he didn't need to. She sought him out, crying into his neck as she held onto him with all she had. He pushed her hair behind her ear before dropping a kiss to her mouth. She smiled, if only to comfort him. The pain she carried was his pain, and she wanted nothing more than for him to stop worrying about her. She told him something similar, causing him to smile down at her.

"I always worry about you. I knew this was all getting to you, love. You are the most kind and caring person I know. If anyone is allowed to be upset, it's you."

Sybil laughed, wiping at her cheeks. It reminded him of the day back at the Autumn fair, when a girl she barely knew made her cry similar tears. "I don't think my character is reason for my father to change his ways. Though, I wish it was."

"I hate that he wasn't there. I know it hurt you then and I am so sorry it hurt you now-" She reached up for his face, pulling him in for a fiery kiss. He deepened it, allowing the weight of her body to push them back against the stair they rested against.

"Oh, good!" A voice bounded causing the two to pull away. Sybil was not crying anymore but instead laughing at her grandmother's words.

"Hi Granny," she murmured, looking up at the elderly woman.

"Is there room for me on that step?"

"This step?" Sybil asked, unsure of what her grandmother was referring to.

"Did I falter, dear? Move aside, Sybil. Your grandmother is old and I was just spun around the dancefloor by Matthew. That boy dances like a peasant."

"A peasant?" Tom inquired.

"They're always so uninhibited, you know," she finished. "Good dancers, though, I suppose. Your people have time for things like that…"

Tom stood up and helped Violet to sit next to her granddaughter. He went to leave but Violet invited him back, leaving the young gentleman to lean against the wooden banister as the two women talked.

"I wanted to be there," she said finally, causing Sybil to look up. Violet used her cane as support, still slightly embarrassed she was sitting on the floor with her granddaughter. It had been awhile since she had gone to the second floor of this house, much less sat on the carpeted steps leading upstairs. "I wanted to go but your father forbid it. It took everything in him to watch Mary go but you know how they are. And Edith only went to please your mother. Your poor mother," Violet began, changing her tune. "She was still getting over the flu but if it's between you and me she could have made the trip. I can't imagine not seeing a child get married." Violet paused. "I went to your aunt's wedding as you know," she finished. "I didn't like your uncle or his family, but I went. I even offered to pay for some of it. The flowers were ugly but...well that doesn't really matter now."

Sybil looked up to Tom. She stifled a laugh behind the tips of her fingers. "I really should have just gone, you know. But unlike you, I obey the men in my life."

"Granny, really-"

"And I guess this is me telling you I am jealous of your gumption." She went to sit up, signaling for Tom to come over and help her when her cane was not enough. "Just know, my dear," she said, standing now above where Sybil still sat. "You are lucky that you are so strong and that you have a man willing to stand by your side like this. Mary and Edith do not have the heart that you have or the backbone. You survived this just as we all knew you would. Or at least, I did, do you hear me? But they don't worry about you, Sybil. And maybe that hurts to hear, but they worry about Mary and they most certainly worry about Edith, but not you, dear. You're a strong girl, my Sybil darling. Perhaps the strongest woman this house had seen in some time. Do not let them take that away from you."

She paused, breathing in before continuing. "It takes a lot for me to say such things, Sybil, so please do not tell anyone we had this discussion." Sybil was beaming now, she laughed in response, knowing it was much less a discussion and more of her grandmother giving her opinion.

Sybil watched as her grandmother stuck out her arm for Tom to take. "Tom, do take me back to the ballroom, will you?"

Tom could only oblige, both him and Sybil sharing an eye roll and a laugh as he disappeared. When he returned, he helped his wife up, explaining to her that he had made their excuses and that the party was winding down anyway.

"They won't mind if we sneak away?"

"I know your feet hurt and you need your rest," he said, pressing a kiss to the side of her face.

Sybil smiled into it as they made their way up the stairs. "Are you to bed me, Mr. Branson?"

Tom smirked. "Shush, now. That's the last thing I need someone in this house hearing."

Sybil rubbed at the underside and top of her stomach. "Oh, do you think such a thing will surprise people? I am pregnant, Tom. They do know how such things work."

He said nothing but instead guided them off toward her room. Once inside they were happy to find the fireplace already lit and their bed already turned down. Sybil smiled, not even waiting for Tom to lock the door before ridding herself of her gown right there in the middle of the room. She stepped out of the flowing fabric, leaving her in nothing but her slip when she walked to Tom to help him undress. "Let me," she whispered, her fingers reaching up to untie his neckpiece. Tom obliged, letting her get him down to his boxers and undershirt.

He stopped her then, reaching around to hoist her up so he was carrying her in his arms. Sybil yelped but loved the way Tom was able to hold her the way no man ever had before. Slowly, he laid her down on the bed. Immediately, Sybil moved over, missing the contact of his skin burning against her own.

They made love slowly, taking their time with each nip and kiss. She lapped at the skin she marked near his collarbone and he did the same to the bundle of nerves between her legs. She cried out in ecstasy, grabbing the bedsheets she laid upon to hinder the wave of the orgasm currently ripping through her. In a way she was unable to describe she always needed his lips upon hers just moments after coming down from her high. When he accepted, as he always was more than willing to do, she allowed him to slide into her.

Languidly they moved against one another, bringing them to their climax together. It was loud but patient, causing Sybil to breath heavily into Tom's neck long after it had ceased. Her body felt like it was on fire, so naked and adored. Tom could only kiss her, to let her know that he loved her more and more each day. She replied in kind, kissing his chin as she reached down to cover them with the comforter resting at the end of the bed.

* * *

Thanks for reading my lovelies! If you're feeling generous, leave me a review! Please and thank you?

Also, I have posted my new fic **_Beautiful Collisions_**, as promised! Go read that if you have yet to do so. As I promised I won't post chapter two of that until this fic is over with but I really am absolutely in love with reading your reviews on that in the meantime.

x. Elle


	22. Dead Hearts

**A/N: **Some readers told me they never received the alert for the last chapter so you may want to go back and make sure you read that before reading this.

**Timeline:** In between 3x01 and 3x03 when Tom and Sybil are back in Dublin.

**Song:** _Dead Hearts_ - Stars

* * *

Dublin invited them back in the way that only a late spring day could. The city was quiet with people observing the Sabbath. While the rest of the Branson family went to their parents' house for their usual Sunday brunch, Tom followed Sybil through the park as she dragged him to a place that seemed more familiar to her than to him. This was his hometown but it was soon becoming hers as well. The ache she felt back at Downton had subsided to a dull murmur, only to rear it's head when she spent her days at home alone waiting for Tom to return from work.

"Where are we going again?"

"Somewhere I've been meaning to bring you for a long time," she began, smiling over at him.

They held hands, with Sybil walking close to Tom as they hit the end of the park leading them out onto the other side of town. "When we were at Downton I was reminded that this needed to be done."

"Am I being punished?"

Sybil smirked. "Hardly," she whispered. "Don't you trust me?"

"Of course I do." Tom squeezed his wife's hand, causing her to rest her head on his shoulder. He looked down, staring at their feet then at the swell of her tummy. It grew everyday as the pregnancy began to near its end. Tom had never seen her look more radiant and beautiful and he took every opportunity to tell her so with a kiss to the cheek or a whisper in her ear.

She'd smile, knowing she cherished such things just as much as she needed them. Pregnancy had been kind, but like all women, she was beginning to think the changes to her body, the clothing she wore, and her sometimes short temper would push him away. Each night, when Tom pulled her close and spoke to her stomach and then captured her lips she was reminded that such a thing was perfect to him and desirable.

They arrived. Tom stopped, not wanting to go further. Sybil looked to him, letting go of his hand so she could stand in front of him and capture his eyes. "Tom…"

"I don't know why we're here," he whispered, staring ahead at the iron fence blocking rows and rows of tombstones. He knew this place well, though he recognized the guilt building in a slow burn in his head more than the feeling of attending funerals as a young boy. Part of him felt guilty, wondering how much he had missed since leaving for Downton. He knew the answer: he had missed far more than he was willing to admit aloud. "Sybil, I can't…"

She stood on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. When she pulled away, her mouth rested near his ear, whispering exactly what he needed to here. "You can and you must. I'm right here," she practically sang, her voice mimicking the echo of the wind swirling around them in a slow dance. "We're going to do this together, alright?"

Tom nodded. He grabbed for his hand while she did the same, their limbs meeting in the middle as they opened the gate and walked inside. Soon, it was Tom leading the way, to a back section where his family's plot rested.

He turned to her, as if to run away, but he remained, still and stoic. "Go on," she whispered, nudging him toward the tombstone he was drawn to. It read the name of his cousin, and suddenly she was back at Downton hearing him recount the events of 1916 when so many of his people were taken at the hands of her country. Below the name and the dates close in proximity (a fact that sent chills up Sybil's spine), a simple saying: _Ardú gan titim_.

Sybil was behind Tom now, resting her head on his shoulder. Her hand sought him out, holding onto his fingers with care. "What does it mean?"

"It's a saying from the Rising," he began. She felt him breathe in deeply and though she could not see it, she could imagine a single tear rolling down his frozen cheeks. "It's a piece of advice, to rise without falling…"

"Oh, Tom," Sybil began, holding him from behind. She wished she was bigger, to be able to hold him the way he held her so many times before but for Tom it was enough to feel the warmth of her body pressed into his backside.

"I don't want to be here," he murmured, wiping away another tear. "This place makes me angry." He turned around to face her. "I'm so angry, Syb-"

She cut him off, pulling him into her. It was her turn to be strong, to hold him against her as he cried into her chest. "Shh, love," she said, doing her best to calm him down.

His body was wracked with sobs, shaking into Sybil's petite frame. It made her love him more than she already had. His willingness to give everything to her, even the emotions he was afraid to speak of, made her heart swell. There was compassion here and a bit of weariness too. Sybil knew this was necessary, but she didn't expect the pain, so soft at first then building into a deep rage. It continued, staining a watermark into the top of her gown.

When she brought him here she had little intention of seeing him like this, but part of her was glad to be the one to bring him through all of it. After seeing the way he reacted back at Downton, Sybil understood how many things were left unsaid as emotions were tucked away and left to settle on their own. It broke her heart to see him like this, crying into her shoulder and using her for comfort when it was usually him doing the same for her. Still, there was a cleansing process she was witnessing that came with a deep breath that echoed as his lungs relaxed.

"Tom, it's okay…"

"It's not okay, Sybil!" Tom shouted. He did not calm down the way he usually did after realizing his folly. He only continued on. "He was one of my closest friends. We grew up together. I should have come back. I should have fought…"

"If you had fought you'd be dead, Tom." Her voice was stern now. It warned of details both of them knew to be all too true. Sybil stepped into him, grabbing for his hands. "Tom, I love you and I know this is hard and I brought you here because you need to acknowledge all of it." She breathed out, her shoulders releasing some of the weight they held. "It's okay to be angry and it's okay to cry."

"Is it okay? I don't feel like any of this is okay, Sybil," he emphasized. There were a million other words to describe how uncomfortable he was. His lack of "okay" spoke all of them.

"Of course it's not," she said, resigning. "But I'm here for you and you need to do this. You can't let this dictate your life."

"Dictate my life?" He spat. Sybil's eyes widened at the sound of her husband raising his voice. Tom softened, reaching up to stroke her cheek. There it was, she thought. "I'm sorry, love," he began. "But it does dictate my life. This is my home and these are my people and I am so sick of living in a world where that can't be realized."

"Ireland's time will come," she said confidently. "I'm absolutely sure of it."

Tom's eyes were no longer watering. He smiled, loving her optimism and the way she never let him get away with too much. He loved how she believed the words she said; it was comfort to him, like his favorite song or the sound of her voice in the morning. "Do you mind if I say a prayer?"

Sybil didn't respond. Instead, she kneeled down. It elicited a smile from his lips as he joined her. They said a prayer. In one hand, Tom held his rosary from church while the other was latched onto Sybil, resting in her lap. She watched him hold back tears and whisper ten of the Lord's prayer's before moving on to a simple Hail Mary. She was proud of herself for remembering the ritual, her eyes set upon his fingers stroking the black beads. When he finished, they sat in silence, staring at the tombstone in front of them and the others that surrounded it.

The ground was cold but her body was warm, pressed against him as he applied the same pressure to her. More tears came as the wind danced around them, inviting the night to take over for day. It seemed like minutes but they sat there for hours, with Tom discussing other things, aside from his cousin's death, that had occurred while he was at Downton. As best as she could, Sybil listened, encouraging his words knowing they helped just as much as they hurt. They laughed a bit, and cried some more and when it was time to leave, they helped each other to stand before walking home.

~!~

"Sybil! Sybil, I know you're in there…" She didn't move, but continued to listen, as a voice she was afraid to admit she was familiar with rapped at the door. "Sybil! Tom sent me…" The voice began, urging Sybil to get up from the bed and walk to the front door. She was apprehensive, and growing more fearful as the moments passed. A name that was supposed to comfort her suddenly made her taste blood as she bit down on her tongue. She had thrown up twice already today since returning home from the job interview she had attended. On the counter was a rather ominous note left by her husband. The same man that was supposed to be her best friend had abandoned her, and yet she craved him, needing him by her side when her mind screamed at her to be angry and to give him up just as he had done to her.

Reminding herself that this was all so temporary, Sybil wrapped her sweater around her body as she reached the door. She looked through the peephole to the woman standing on the other side. Bridget was fidgeting, holding her purse close to her body as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other. She rolled her eyes, causing Sybil to do the same. In the state she was in, she was not yet ready to deal with the girl on the other side of the door.

"Hi," Sybil whispered, taking Bridget in.

"Have you packed yet?" Bridget asked, pushing past Sybil into the flat. She stopped, taking a look around the rather tidy apartment. A book she had guessed Sybil was reading laid open on it's spine on the counter. A kettle was beginning to boil on the stove, signaling that Sybil was doing her best to calm herself down with Tom gone.

"The boat leaves in an hour," Bridget began. "I told Tom I'd sit with you. I have to go to Liverpool to visit a friend…" she explained.

"Is this a joke?"

Bridget smiled, feeling the same animosity she often received from other girls. "No, this isn't a joke. I'm doing Tom a favor. And…" she started, her voice hesitant. She breathed out, gathering the composure and pride to continue. "I wanted to apologize for the way I behaved at the fair. I just like getting a rise out of people, I suppose."

"It's fine." Sybil muttered. She was staring at the ground now. She wondered where Tom was and hoped to God he was safe. She hoped such a thing almost as much as she selfishly wished for him to be back here with her, holding her tight as he assured her it would all be back to normal shortly. She doubted the latter, knowing that the two of them would have to go before they could ever come back.

"It's not okay. Tom's a good man, Sybil-"

"I don't need you to tell me what my husband is and isn't." Sybil stopped herself, suddenly feeling guilty for reacting in such a manner. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

"How's the baby?"

Sybil smirked, knowing what Bridget was getting at. She was right too; her hormones were raging lately and regardless of where Tom was, there were very few words in the world that didn't set her off, and even fewer existed to calm her down.

"Fine." She felt bad again. "Good," she added.

"Listen," Bridget started. "I know we got off on the wrong foot but I really am trying to help you here. I promised Tom I would get you to Liverpool and I'm keeping my promise…"

"I appreciate that."

A silence settled over the two girls. There was not much for them to say, but the lack of sentiment made them both realize how much they had in common. While Sybil packed her suitcase, Bridget walked around their room, admiring the pictures on the walls and the gowns that hung in Sybil's closet. "Are you really a Lady?"

Sybil chuckled. "I used to be," she smirked.

"You still are."

"Thank you?" Sybil said, almost as if to ask a question. "I don't feel connected to that world anymore. I love my life here. I wouldn't trade it for the world."

"Was it hard to leave?"

"I love Tom," Sybil stated. It was such an easy thing to proclaim. "It was for a really long time but then it was the easiest thing in the world. I'm sure it seems silly, really…"

"It only seems silly because I can't imagine leaving a big house to come live in Dublin."

"It's lovely here," Sybil tried to explain away.

"Did you really have a governess?"

Sybil nodded, smiling as she placed the pants Tom had bought her for her birthday in the bottom of her suitcase. "I did," she beamed. "I hated her though. She was old and really not good for much. She got me in trouble and never let me play."

"Play? Isn't that all there is to do when your parents own the county?"

"When I was eight, I freed the horses from the stable because I thought they weren't being cared for properly."

Bridget was sitting on the bench to Sybil's small vanity. Heartily she laughed, picturing a much younger Sybil fighting what could only seem like a revolution to such a small child. "You and Tom are perfect for one another."

Sybil couldn't help but smile. "He's my best friend." She paused. "When did you talk to him again?"

Bridget smiled. "I wasn't in love with him. And he was never in love with me," she explained. "His mother saw me at the market last night after he left. He told her to contact me because he knew I traveled into Liverpool around this time each month. I don't mind really…"

"Well thank you," Sybil began. "I appreciate the company."

Sybil continued to pack, managing to fill her suitcase as well as one of Tom's old bags. She grabbed him an extra shirt and pair of trousers, as well as the throw from the back of the couch.

Looking around the apartment, she wondered when she'd be back. Tom had said little of what has occurred or where he was going but she felt him, traveling by himself back to a place she once called home. She felt lonely for him, her bones aching to know he was alright. She hoped they would welcome him, but soon she thought better of such a notion, knowing that regardless of what happened that he would never be accepted. He had left her alone and her father would never allow himself to see anything else. Sybil feared for him and the wrath he was undoubtedly receiving in her honor.

At the door now, carrying her suitcase and Tom's old leather bag, Sybil locked the door, bolting the wood in place. She breathed out, suddenly missing the confines of her small flat as she stuffed her keys down into the bottom of her handbag. There were memories here, memories she wished she could store in her already too full suitcase.

The two girls walked to the docks, doing their best to avoid those around them. Early morning Dublin provided for crowded city streets and people on their way to work with some just returning home. Bridget did her best to look down, avoiding the people she knew. To start a conversation or even look their way would be to answer questions they had no business of asking.

The Branson's were a prominent family and Sybil had been told that news of Tom's activity with the IRA was spreading like wildfire throughout the city. She wondered if they were talking about her too, the Irish feeling bad for the poor English girl whose husband had acted contrary to the country where they had met.

"Do I have time to make a call?"

Bridget looked at her pocket watch. She nodded. "Just be careful," she warned, unsure of who was watching or listening as the two girls waited for their boat to dock.

Sybil nodded, excusing herself to enter the lobby of the dock office. She dialed, waiting for what seemed like an eternity for someone to pick up. On the other line, Edith answered. She was just as confused by the words her sister spoke as Sybil was speaking them. She was still so unsure, her body shaking as the child inside of her rolled and turned in anticipation. The last time Sybil had been on a boat, she was without child and with Tom, sharing a small meal together as they relinquished in their time alone. Her heart dropped, needing him here. Again, she saw him, just as scared as she was, running from something she hoped he had no control over. She wanted to hate him; she felt abandoned and alone. As she hung up the phone, her heart dropped, hoping that such a burning in her heart would soon subside when she and Bridget reached Liverpool. She felt such things because the world told her to, not because any of it was what her heart believed.

"Do you want some change to make a call?" Sybil asked.

Bridget shook her head. "I'm not taking your money."

"I don't mind. You're doing me a favor," she reminded. "It's the least I can do."

Bridget denied her offer once more. "Our boat is here," she stated simply.

The ride was slow at first and the ship was dark. The waiting room of the boat was dim, emphasizing how few people rode the first ride out to Liverpool each morning. The girls were silent, filling only necessary moments with small talk. Sybil told Bridget how her and Tom fell in love, and Bridget rather enjoyed the story, finding strength behind what the younger girl shared.

"Tom's a good guy, Sybil. I don't know what he did but I know how hard it's been in Ireland for the past few years. I can't imagine being him and not being here for it." She breathed out, figuring out where to go from here. "I don't know the relationship you have or the person you two were before you met but I know he loves you. Anyone can see that," she reasoned. "Just let him explain and try to be forgiving. He's a good man and I'm sure whatever he did was not meant to hurt you."

"I know that." It was never something she doubted.

Bridget breathed out. "Good…"

"Can I ask you something?"

Bridget nodded, suddenly feeling a certain anticipation for such an inquiry. "Of course," she responded, smiling.

"Are you expecting?"

Bridget smirked. "I am...how did you know?"

"You've touched your stomach a lot since leaving the flat. And I was a nurse during the war. I just got a sense that-"

"We were supposed to get married. He's living in Liverpool now because that's where he can work. It's all so unstable. I don't even know if he loves me anymore," she said, stroking her stomach much in the way Sybil had referred to before.

"I'm sure he does."

"We're not all as lucky as you are," Bridget reminded. Her voice lacked a tinge of jealousy in the way that Sybil was expecting. "I hope he does, though. At least he's working…" she reminded, her voice trailing off. Sybil heard it, realizing that the things that were important to her and Tom were not always what was important to the rest of the people their age. They lived off of love, often in a way that she now saw to be unrealistic.

Bridget and Sybil shared a muffin and Sybil insisted she buy their tea. The two girls sipped at the contents of their glass mugs, thanking the man that brought them their meal for being so quick. They sipped and sipped, doing their best to savor the warm beverage and the silence it allowed for. Neither had much to say, or at least anything the other wanted to hear. Still, they felt a bond, one that lasted even throughout the awkward pauses on the boat ride to England.

When they docked, the two girls hurried off the boat, grabbing their bags from their place underneath the bench they occupied so they could be some of the first to hit the docks. Without thinking, Sybil pulled Bridget in for a hug, doing her best to thank the girl without using words they were both not ready to hear. "Travel safe," she managed. It sounded something like: "Thank you for everything" or "I wish you all the best".

"You too," Bridget smiled, returning the hug.

The two girls departed. Sybil wanted to allow herself to feel alone, but she felt better of it. Instead, she felt nothing at all. Her body grew numb as the baby kicked. It was the first time she felt the sensation and she regretted such a notion, wishing Tom was here to feel it too. As she hailed a taxi, she thought of him, hoping he was at Downton safe and sound. If her heart wasn't so heavy she would have wished the same for herself.

As the driver began to drive her toward the train station, a tear rolled down her cheek, confirming all she was too afraid to admit to feeling. The same pain was evident on her cheeks as a different drive brought her to the outer gates of Downton. A place she used to call home seemed so foreign. The tug she felt, bringing her up the gravel path toward the large wooden doors, was evident because of the man inside, the man that she loved so dearly. The same man that abandoned her and their child, leaving her feeling so very alone. As she opened the doors to her childhood home, she felt it, even as she saw him running toward her. The loneliness she felt was no longer attributed to him, but the doubt she felt being back in a place that she had left alone. His lips hungrily tasting her told her everything she needed to know: about how they had badgered him and blamed him for her late arrival. She wasn't alone now though. Pulling away only to rest her head on his shoulder, Sybil doubted he would ever allow her to feel that way again.

* * *

Thanks for reading and reviewing!

Now for honesty hour: I have lost my touch a bit with this fic. Not in this chapter, and certainly not in the one that follows (because it is one of my favorites I have ever written-that of which, I have no problem saying) but it has happened nonetheless. It's not beta-ed and it hasn't been, but as I get closer to the end (there's about 13 chapters left after this one) I'm noticing it's not been as easy for me to write as the earlier chapters were and I'm getting sloppy. There are also a lot of other really amazing fics on this site that are dealing with similar plotlines and are written far better than my own. And that's fine! I'm honored to be surrounded by such talented writers. This also comes at a time where I have started really spending a lot of time with my new fic to get that ready for posting. And that fic is my pride and joy.

But this used to be something I was proud of too, so I just need the time to edit it and rip it apart before piecing it back together again. For those of you who have been reading this since the beginning (love you guys!), you deserve the awesome ending I have planned.

That being said, be patient with me posting for this fic. I have the next 6 chapters written and edited but I still might be slow with them until my confidence as a writer comes back.

And it will. It always does.

OH! And go read **_Beautiful Collisions_** if you have yet to do so! Link is on my profile page!

:]

x. Elle


	23. Blindsided

**A/N:** I did not touch the scene referenced at the end of last chapter because it was by far the best scene in S3 of Downton. Feel free to youtube it and remind yourself of the passion and commitment shown by Allen and Jess. Dear god!

In your reviews, a lot of you mentioned Bridget being brought back and I figured I'd share my secret with you: Aside from resolving Bridget as this nice character with human qualities, there's also a tradition that many pregnant Irish women follow that involves them wearing a medallion of St. Brigid. She is said to protect women during their pregnancy. How fitting for the girl that helps Sybil safely to Liverpool be a girl named Bridget? It's something my family does and I liked the symbolism of it so I included it.

If I'm allowed to say it, I'm extremely proud of this chapter. Not for the writing necessarily, but because it really shows everything I believe to be true about Tom and Sybil and emphasizes how truly beautiful their love is.

**Timeline:** Re-writes of scenes (missing and implied) from 3x04.

**Song:** _Blindsided_ - Bon Iver

* * *

Sybil had made a promise she perhaps should have told Tom about. She had no idea that such a promise would hold little weight after her husband, the same man she loved and adored, cast her in such a bad light. She was ashamed and hurt, but she loved him all the same. Maybe, as was typical of Sybil, she found herself loving him more, if only because he needed it.

She sat watching Tom unpack the things she had brought from Dublin. Sybil knew what this meant. She loved that he was sorry but hated that he needed a reason to be.

"You know," she began, breaking the silence. "I didn't think it was a bad idea until everyone else did and now that I do I hate myself for it…"

Tom sighed, looking over to where his wife sat on her childhood bed. She laid back, propped against pillows he had set up for her. Her feet were crossed over one another, covered in thick wool socks she loved to wear during her pregnancy. She rubbed at her tummy, feeling their child grow just inches away from where her fingers danced.

"But it was. I was stupid and dumb and so so foolish to leave you. I don't deserve you…"

Sybil sat forward. Her feet came crashing down to the ground as she stepped toward him. "Don't say that!"

"Syb?" They had barely said much, needing only the pressure of their lips pressed against one another's skin to reassure each other that it would all be sorted. Now, too much was being said. Things that neither of them were ready to discuss were being brought to light and emphasized by the silence previously welcomed in this house.

"Please! It's not true. Your mother had said the same thing when I stopped to say goodbye after I got your note. She just kept whispering it as if I couldn't understand her. Katherine agreed and I knew that I was giving in to the same thing that kept me apart from you all those years. We have to stop listening to them. Your parents and my parents," she said, throwing her body weight to signal both groups. "Just because there's a consensus doesn't mean it's right. I need to trust myself."

Tom stepped in to her. His arm was laced around her back, resting on her hip. He used his other hand to push her bobbed hair out of her face. "Do you though? I'd understand if. God, it's-"

Not wanting to hear his words anymore, she captured him, pressing a searing kiss to his lips. "No," she whispered, pulling away. She smiled as she continued. "I'm sure. I've always been sure. You're a good man, Tom."

Tom looked down, still not feeling worthy of the gaze she cast upon him. "How's the baby?"

Sybil beamed. "S'good. Missed you. Hated the boat ride."

His brows furrowed, searching her face for evidence of hurt and worry he had perhaps overlooked when deciding to kiss her instead of speak at the main door downstairs. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine. Hungry, but fine. I want tea and fruit," she said, referring to her favorite late night snack.

"Together?"

Sybil looked down to her protruding stomach. She rubbed at her belly through her dress. "What my baby wants, my baby gets." She paused and then: "Do you think Mrs. Hughes will mind me stopping down to get something?"

Tom smiled, loving how scattered her mind was lately. "Of course not."

"And you're coming?" she quickly asked.

He dropped her hands, returning his attention to their almost empty suitcases. "Sybil-"

Not wanting to give up or allow him to do the same, she walked to him to grab his face. Her thumbs caressed his earlobes while the rest of her fingers performed slow dances at the back of his neck. "Tom, this may not be my house anymore but part of it always will be. Do you understand that? I'm serious. We need to ignore them." A moment passed. She grabbed her stomach before pressing a palm to her forehead. "I'm growing awfully tired."

Tom reached out to support her as he lead her to sit on the bench beside her vanity. "Do you want to lie down?" he suggested, hoping she would take him up on the offer.

"I'm afraid it's not that kind of tired, love."

They both managed a chuckle, perhaps their last for quite some time as Cora, Mary and Edith invited themselves into the room. With them, they carried the telegram Robert had sent from London discussing Tom's situation. As Sybil listened, her mind went black thinking of the possibilities such news could lead to. Not wanting to go there but feeling she must, she wondered if this was all a plan for her parents to keep her at Downton. Maybe they thought Tom would feel the strong pull of going back to Ireland and once again leave without her.

Sybil knew better, and as she listened, she did nothing but hold Tom's hand in her own. He stroked her skin with his thumb, running his anxious fingers up and down the area around her wedding ring. When he grew tired and rather apologetic, she'd take over, paying the same attention to his hands, if only to let him know that like him, she wasn't going anywhere.

Throughout it all, they said little and did even less. When the rest of the family excused themselves, Sybil stood to begin readying herself for what she hoped was a short dinner. She no longer dreamed of tea and fruit but instead just wanted a meal without talk of politics or the mistakes her family had undoubtedly believed her to make in marrying such a passionate man. Never mind him being Irish and a former employee.

She didn't regret it though and no matter how much their words stung she thought back to the promise she had made to herself and as she said it aloud later in the week, to him as well. This love was not conditional or fleeting. It did not come and go as it pleased or hide away when things got tough. It was stationary and steady and always evident. It hurt her sometimes more than it healed her, but that's what he was there for, to remind her that someday it would all be perfect.

It was not something she could run away from and as the night dawned, she found she didn't want to. Though the words she heard about the things Tom had witnessed hurt her, she couldn't find it in herself to hate him the way she was told she should. He had stood by but he did not initiate such hateful actions. She knew him to be better, but she also knew that he was a man, and like many, he would make mistakes. After all, she had made many, and she felt him only love her more because of them. The parts of her that she was sure were meant for hate and despise were only converted to compartments where she wished to shower him with love.

Such time would have been made had she not been so stubborn, sitting on the edge of their bed leaning against the bedpost as she waited for him to break the silence. The time never came. "Meetings?" she began. "I thought it was only one meeting," she spat, referring to the meeting he had told her about. Their conversation came a month earlier, when gently he broke the news to her that he would be attending Republican meetings at a pub on the other side of town so that he could write a piece for the paper.

The money he was receiving from work lately was steady and it brought comfort to the two of them in a way that maybe Sybil was afraid to acknowledge. She did not consider herself a lady and maybe she never would, but parts of her did expect a certain standard of living and she wouldn't lie and tell him and the rest of the world that the way she was treated with nice meals and flowers due to his regular wages were more than comfort to an English girl in Dublin.

Sybil felt just as guilty as he did. Had she pushed him here? Was it her words and affirmation of his hard work that led them here, back to Downton and so far away from their home?

"I didn't lie! I told you I was going to do stuff for work and I was. But after the article was posted I kept going. I was interested. They had good things to say-"

She was standing now, walking toward him with force and fury. He wanted to step back and he thought that maybe he would have if such a vision of her wasn't so beautiful and sure. This wasn't a fight, he knew that much. This was everything she had been meaning to say, the words she wished and cherished on a boat ride he left her to take by herself.

"They want to kill the English, Tom!" She was in front of him now, her long blue nightgown sweeping at her feet as she brought it in herself to still her body. "I AM ENGLISH, TOM!" She gestured, placing a steady hand on her heart.

She wasn't crying, but he was sure she had wanted to. She had never yelled at him like this, or ever. They never raised their voices to one another, not even in the various fights they had over the things she picked up at the grocery store, how the stress of his job wasn't healthy, or what they'd pay for first each month; hot water or gas.

Though tears refused to fall, Tom wanted to hold her, and kiss her cheeks and promise her it would be okay. They may have been here now but he knew that someday it would all be different. They would find a place far from here, wherever they were, to breathe and settle down.

It was his hand that separated them now. "Sybil, please, you can't think I want anyone dead. That's not why I went…"

"But you lied!" She exclaimed, collapsing on the edge of the bed. Now she was crying and it broke Tom's heart to know he was the cause.

He sat next to her. "Sybil, please calm down, alright? You're pregnant and-" As he had done many times before, usually when the baby was giving her nausea or when she had stated she had missed her family, he rubbed at her back. To his surprise and maybe her own, she did not flinch.

"Do not tell me what to do, Tom! I know I'm pregnant and I know I'm emotional but excuse me for being upset when the person I call my best friend, my world has been lying to me!" Her words were abrasive, but her body warm as she leaned further into him. Sybil's usually hoarse voice was growing more strained as her face's current red shade intensified. There was a certain pain here, clearly not to be outdone by the palm of his hand running up and down the expanse of her back. She allowed it though, needing it all the same.

"I didn't mean to hurt you. I would never-"

She cut him off. Sybil didn't need to hear the rest of his words to know he was sorry. She didn't need to hear any words to realize such a thing. All of that was so clear, written across his face in worry lines and wide eyes. "Well you did! You get so passionate and I love that about you but dear god if I don't want to slap you across the face right now!" she screamed, gritting her teeth.

She was sure that the rest of the house could hear them, but she didn't care, not really. Her life, how simple and perfect they were in Dublin had made it clear that none of this, the decisions they made or the love they felt, was to be understood by anyone but the two of them.

_Let them hear_, she thought. _Let them think and feel what they want. _

Tom softened, as if ready to accept his fate. _"_Do it. I deserve it. I deserve all of it," he finished with a long look downward.

Sybil turned away from him. She rubbed at her eyes as her cheeks began to return to their usual pink color. "No. I don't fancy violence either," she muttered over her shoulder. From this vantage point she could see how much distance she had put between them. Or perhaps he had put it there; it really didn't matter now.

Such a thing was highlighted as he stood, walking to the armoire to retrieve a blanket and pillow. "I'll go into the sitting room."

Sybil bit her lip. She turned to him, her eyes meeting his for perhaps the first time that night. "No you won't."

"Sybil, I-"

She was on her feet now, standing up at the head of the bed. Now, it was impossible for her to keep her eyes trained on him. Not when he was looking at her like this. She rearranged the pillows before pulling back the comforter.

"I'm done talking about this. I'm tired and I've been without you for one too many nights this week. You're going to change and then sleep in bed with me." It was an order, and then, "please", she whispered, reminding him that he needed this just like she did.

"Right," he muttered. "Yeah…of course."

He disappeared into the bathroom to brush his teeth and wash his face. He needed the cold water before seeing her again. When he returned, the light on her side of the bed was already off. He mimicked the actions she must have performed while he was gone, hitting the lamp on his side, sending them both into darkness.

He didn't know what she wanted. Settling in the middle, he turned to her, resting his arm above her head before slowly placing a kiss to the back of her neck.

Tom turned over. He was staring at the ceiling, doing his best not to train his eyes on the small of her back, rising and falling as she breathed in and out. Her body was curled into a ball, much like he assumed their child was, nestled perfectly inside of her. Such love had made their baby and such love would bring it into this world. If only such love was here now.

"Tom?" She asked, breaking the silence in the room. But he didn't have a chance to answer her, for her body was already pressed into his. Her hands were wrapped weakly around his neck, but he felt her use him for strength. Her body was still small, curled into him now creating a mess of limbs between the two of them in the center of her childhood bed. "I got that nursing position in Malahide."

Sybil's body was wracked with sobs. They said nothing, but he stroked her hair and let her cry. When she finally fell asleep, Tom remained, staring at the ceiling thinking over the things he wished he was given time to say. The moment was gone now, and nothing but the darkness of her room (their room, he wondered as he thought about how long they'd be here) was there to comfort him. He deserved this though, and he wanted to believe that he deserved her as well even if such a thing seemed dismal a few short hours ago.

~!~

Tom awoke, rolling over in bed to find the spot next to his empty. A housemaid must have come in because the tall windows on the far wall were opened, creating sun spots on the carpet and the canopy of the bed he was previously seeking slumber in. He thought about what the housemaid could have possibly seen, but he left the thought, realizing that the cold space on the bed next to where he lay was evidence enough that Sybil had been up long before the sun. Even without all of this stress, she never slept the way she always wanted to. Although she'd never admit it, she would nap while he was at work. Her body was just as tired as her mind was, and he wondered where she was, somewhere, anywhere in this large house.

Tom got out of bed and hopped quickly in the shower. He was thankful for the rather luxurious renovations that had been performed on Downton since their last visit, for the new shower was warmer and fit his broad frame better. His movements underneath the steamy water were hurried. Tom hated that she had let him sleep in; he could only imagine what her family already thought of him and he hated to be late for breakfast as well. _As if such a thing would change their mind_, Tom laughed off.

He was getting dressed now, thanking whoever had laid out his newly clean clothing that such a choice left him with no other options. As he unfolded them, the same pants and shirt he wore yesterday in exchange for the ones he had left by the door, he realized it was Sybil who had folded the material and set them aside. He could picture her, talking to a housemaid and instructing her on how to starch the fabric and then insisting that they be returned to her so she could fold his clothing. Then, he heard her. He stopped, allowing the noise of her familiar voice to pull him out of his reverie.

"Tom!" It was louder now and quite possibly even full of worry. He stopped, then began to run, out the door and down the stairs to where the voice was sounding. "Tom!" she said upon seeing him, holding her clasped hands to her mouth to stifle a giggle. "Come!" she ordered, reaching out to grab his hand.

His shirt was not fully buttoned and he had not yet put on socks or a belt, but she didn't seem to mind and neither did he, not as he felt it, his hand on her stomach receiving pressure from the other side. "Syb," he began. His mouth dropped open as he felt it again, the kick of the child, their child, moving beneath his wife's delicate skin. "Oh, god," he let out, not sure if he wanted to join her in laughing or cry.

"Isn't it beautiful?"

He could only nod, feeling as their child stilled to a little heartbeat beneath his fingers, like a fish flopping over to dive before swimming away. He stood, and that was when he really felt it; the eyes of all of the house on them. A housemaid or two were near the main door, rearranging a floral bouquet. Mary and Matthew had come out to see what the commotion was, and Robert and Cora were standing behind them, also taking in a view. At the top of the stairs, Edith stood, staring down at the entire thing. All of them wanted to walk away, to leave the couple to it, but for some reason unknown to the lot, they were unable to.

Tom and Sybil were oblivious, sharing a kiss that left them both breathless. It left them wanting more, evident in the way they smiled at eachother before Sybil hid her beaming face in the crook of Tom's neck. It was then that the rest of the family disbursed. Robert, in particular, thought back to the night before, how he had heard the dull roar of voices in distress a couple rooms over from his. He knew the voices to be Sybil and Tom, and when he was able to get over the fact that they were still married and sharing a room in his house, he thought of how his daughter must have loved this boy for her to ever allow him to stay. Now, such a thing was clear, written all across the young lovers faces as they ascended the steps, Sybil clutching her stomach as she continued to rest her head on Tom's shoulder. He pulled her in close, pressing a kiss to her temple, then the top of her head, then her cheek.

* * *

Thanks for reading! Now please go review and let's talk about our feelings! (haha)

Also, please go check out _**Beautiful Collisions**_ if you have yet to do so. And the answer is, no, I will not stop shamelessly promoting that fic.

Ever.

You're welcome.

:]

x. Elle


	24. Through The Mines

**A/N: **The reason this was not posted sooner was because I was a little confused as to whether or not people had even read the chapter before this one. I know there have been glitches with this site all week but I didn't think they affected my story because I did get some reviews. Not to be that girl but when you consistently get 10+ reviews per chapter and then suddenly it takes you four days to get four reviews, you find yourself lacking all motivation to post.

So before you read this chapter, go back and see if you've read the chapter before. And then if you have, read this chapter. And then if you're feeling it, review! Why? Because it honestly makes me post faster. And the sooner I post the rest of this story (did I mention I finished writing it today? Like ALL OF IT...) the sooner I can begin posting _Beautiful Collisions_ and we can all find out who this mystery boy is...

**Timeline: **No more timeline from this point out. This story is now happily AU!

**Song:** _Through the Mines_ - Stars

* * *

Days had passed, turning hours into moments long gone. Tom and Sybil did their best to acclimate to their new life, one that was foreign to Tom and still so familiar to Sybil. She enjoyed the meals she no longer had to cook, but missed the privacy. It had been one too many times that her and Tom had been interrupted or caught doing something unprecedented for a lady and her husband, regardless of his background. As was customary, they'd both smile it off, walking away, leaving the guilt they felt for such a thing they should never have to regret, dissipate, only to be rediscovered later in the comfort of their own bedroom.

They heard the whispers though and felt the way everyone talked about their relationship. For something that had been hidden so carefully from the rest of the world for years, it was suddenly everyone else's place to scrutinize their love. They were common knowledge now, something that swelled them with pride while also deflating everything they had worked so hard to achieve.

The affection they showed and the love they held for one another was clear as they exchanged glances across the dinner table and smiled about jokes only they knew the humor behind. There was comfort here, comfort previously hidden at Downton. It was odd, and yet so reassuring to find that the love they found in Dublin existed here too.

With her pregnancy nearing its end, Sybil spent a good majority of her days sleeping. She would usually skip breakfast due to a seemingly always upset stomach, and would then join the family downstairs for a quick lunch. An afternoon nap would follow, and then she'd spend the time before dinner in the library with Tom. They'd read books and discuss the baby. Mr. Carson would unwillingly bring them tea, a request of the Dowager at the insistence of the comfort of her granddaughter. When he'd arrive in the room, he'd often have to make quite a bit of noise to get the young lovers to acknowledge his presence. They were so often lost like this, existing separate from the rest of the estate.

"Sybil, darling, I'm so glad you're in here. Do you have a moment?" Cora spoke, entering the room with Mary and Edith trailing behind. Sybil's two sisters were ignoring one another, instead staring at the way Sybil separated from Tom, removing her feet from his lap. She sat forward, doing her best to be the girl they had raised her to be. Such a thing was difficult when carrying Tom's child.

"Of course," she whispered, holding Tom's hand in her lap.

"Tom, Papa and Matthew are having a drink in the dining room if you'd like to join them. They wanted to discuss something with you, I believe," Mary piped up, doing her best to hold a genuine smile. Her words gave an offer, but Tom knew better than to deny, even politely. Even without listening to what he was sure they were saying about him, he knew how they felt. They didn't believe him, much less understand the love he had for Sybil. Both things would have taken effort, effort that was eliminated by their English background and aristocratic social class. Mind was never paid to boys from Dublin before; that wasn't going to change now.

Tom smiled at Sybil, something that allowed to her know he'd be able to handle himself in such a situation. Sybil found herself doubting him he more than she ever had before. He kissed her cheek, causing her to smile and close her eyes, savoring the soft touch of his lips to her skin.

"Bí maith," she whispered, causing Tom to return her smile and leave the women to talk.

"Is everything alright?" She began as Tom disappeared out the door. She was receiving glares for the words she had just spoken, but felt no remorse for such lovely sounds. Sybil was proud of the language she picked up, no matter how sparse and limited her knowledge was. It was a part of Tom, a dwindling part, he reminded her, that she was happy to learn about. She was happy to learn about all parts of him, but his culture and the place that raised him meant just as much to her as Downton.

"You know Irish now?" Edith questioned, wondering what her sister had just said to her husband. Her question only confirmed what Mary and Cora were curious of. The two of them shot a look to Sybil, patiently waiting for an answer, hoping it would be short and simple.

"Not much," Sybil began. "Enough to get me by."

"Lovely," Mary whispered, rolling her eyes.

"Sybil, have you begun to think about the arrangements once the baby is here? I mean, have you even begun to think about preparations?"

"I talked to Dr. Clarkson yesterday," she began. "He says he'll deliver the baby here."

"And what about after the baby is born? Have you begun to shop for the little one? What about clothing and a crib and-"

Sybil cut Mary off. "It's bad luck to buy things for the baby before it's born," she explained.

Edith sent her youngest sister a glare. "Says who?!"

"It's an Irish thing," Sybil explained, staring down at the ground now. "I mean, other people can buy me things but I'm not supposed to get anything for the baby."

"Well I've already begun to rearrange the nursery-"

"Oh no," Sybil exclaimed. "I mean, sure, when the baby is a older she can sleep in the nursery but Tom and I want the crib in our room."

"Sybil, this isn't Dublin," Mary spoke. "We have a nursery, you might as well take advantage of it. There's no need to cramp all three of you into your old room."

Sybil thought back to Ireland and how the room they shared there was half the size of her childhood room at Downton. A place that seemed cramped to Mary was large and inviting to Sybil and her new family.

"Tom and I would like the baby to sleep in her crib in our room." Her words came quickly and without force. A silence fell over the room. Sybil's words were curt, full of anger she had yet to even fully disclose.

"And what about a nanny? Have you talked about that? What about a wet nurse?"

Sybil shook her head. "We don't want a nanny and I most definitely do not need a wet nurse."

Cora sighed. It was clear how upset Sybil was getting and this place that they now stood, as mother and daughter and now mother and mother, found them at odds. As much as Cora wished to understand her daughter's frustration, she couldn't see through the ease of her options. When Cora was Sybil's age, she jumped at the prospect of help. Carrying a child was terrifying enough without thinking of nursing and caring for it too. Now, with Sybil a year younger than Cora was when she gave birth to Mary, there was a maturity she could not grasp and a disgust for the things Cora was once so comforted by.

The youngest Crawley daughter was standing now, peering out the window of the library onto the dew covered grass below. "I would like to actually raise my child," Sybil spat.

"Sybil, darling, Mama is only trying to help," Mary reminded. Not yet a mother, she found herself just as offended as her mother seemed to be.

She turned back to her family. "I understand that and I appreciate the thought but Tom and I have discussed all of this. We are so grateful for the security you have given us here and the help you've provided us while we figure all of this out but we want to parent our children our way. Isn't that what marriage is about? Can't I be trusted for wanting things this way? Why am I being condemned for wanting to act as a mother?"

"Sybil…"

"No, Edith! This is my child. I will not apologize for choosing to parent my children a certain way."

"Darling, please calm down."

"I will not calm down!" She yelled, her hands balled into frustrated fists at her side. "I am not a child anymore! I am married and baring a child of my own and I am going to be a mother soon. If this upsets you that much then fine!"

"Sybil, Mama is only trying to help. If you don't want help then so be it. Just stop being so stubborn and move on."

Sybil sighed. Mary was right. But there were things here, thinks unspoken and therefore unheard of, that she was defending. They'd see it, but never acknowledge just how much it all meant to Sybil. Such a thing that was so evident to the youngest Crawley sister went unwitnessed by the rest of her family. The words she spoke not only defended her as a mother but also a wife. This wasn't just about the love she felt for her unborn child but for her husband and best friend as well.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, sitting back down on the couch next to Mary. "Tom and I have just spent a lot of time talking about all of this and we have it all worked it. We appreciate all you have done for us lately but we want to do this by ourselves. We need to," she added.

Cora sighed. "It's okay to have help. But," she started with a change of tone. "If you want to do it this way then your father and I will respect that. Just please remember that when you say things like this you are belittling how you were raised, Sybil. You had a nanny and wet nurse and you turned out just fine!"

"Mama-"

But Cora was already gone, standing and walking out of the room to leave her daughters behind. Sybil looked over her shoulder, then to the ground below. The baby, her child with Tom, kicked, sending a shiver up her spine. She wanted to say something, to tell her mother that it wasn't like that, and that she would never disrespect her in such a way. Somehow though, Sybil knew such words were useless. In her parents' eyes she had done so much more than disrespect them. It began when she left for Dublin and continued when she returned a few short days ago, still siding with the man she loved.

~!~

Branson found himself alone with Robert far more than he was ever comfortable with. Mary had mentioned that Matthew was in here speaking with Robert, and she sounded truthful, but when he entered the dining room, it was just Robert reading the paper and sipping a glass of whiskey. If it weren't for the half empty crystal tumbler on the table, Tom would have completely doubted what Mary had told him. Deciding not to think about it, he sat down, inviting himself into an environment he would never truly be welcome in.

Carson walked over to pour the young man a drink, but Branson politely refused, deciding that alcohol would be no cure for the mood in the room. If anything, it would only work to heighten the tension already building between himself and Sybil's father.

Robert knew it too, but he sipped at his glass of Brandy, bringing the crystal away from his lips to see Tom from behind the fragmentation of the glass. He spoke now, picking up his paper like another boundary to keep them separated. This was only further emphasized as Tom read the headlines, all British and biased, written by men who knew no better and believed that what they told was the truth.

"She's my baby girl," Robert began. "And I've accepted this but it'll never be okay with me. A father should want to be happy for his daughter and I see the way you look at her and it should want to make me proud but I honestly just want to ring your neck, Branson." His voice was raising in volume now. "You'll understand someday when you have a daughter. Or maybe you won't," Robert finished, thinking of the child his daughter was baring. It was Tom's child, a thought that made him cringe and falter. He should be happy for her, but he tried all of that and ended with nothing but a broken heart.

After she had left, Robert expected her to soon return. Days turned into weeks and then suddenly a year had passed without him seeing his youngest daughter. He had surmised that Sybil would not be able to handle such a life; a cramped flat in Dublin could never provide what Downton had to offer. But she remained, solidifying all that Robert feared about the feelings between Sybil and Tom. It was almost as if he had failed her, like the things he gave her, the gowns and the parties were never enough and somehow the life she led in Ireland was more than adequate. It was "perfect", he remembered hearing Cora relay such news to him in one of her first letters.

Tom was still, unsure of what to do with his hands or how to sit. "Nothing ever happened," he assured, thinking back to all of those times his lips itches to touch her skin but were granted no such access.

"Spare me," Robert spat, sitting back in his chair after finally dropping his folded newspaper onto the table.

"I can't do that, sir. It's clear she hasn't told you much and I get that. I'm sure you'd tell her you don't want to hear it the way you're doing with me now but it's important that you know the truth. I'm sure this is difficult but I can promise you I barely kissed her under your roof. I would never. She wouldn't allow it."

"And you?"

Tom sighed. "I respected her wishes. I loved your daughter then and I love her even more now and I know that is so hard for you to understand because you think that because I'm below you my love isn't the love she deserves. I know you think she deserves more and I used to agree with you but she has showed me we are exactly what we deserve. And this baby-"

"Do you understand how hard it is for me to look back at all the times you took her places? I shudder, Branson. She was a child!" Robert roared. His voice was booming now, reminding Tom of all the other times he had been scolded. Once in the drawing room and the next in the library. She was with him the first time, and then gone the next. Somehow though, she was always there to help him, to pull him up onto his feet and point him in the right way. He made her better; had he said that yet?

"I'm sorry you feel that way. I can only tell you what I know. Nothing happened. She grew up and she decided what she wanted. I'm sorry that it wasn't what you wanted as well."

"It is amazing to me all of the things that I apparently don't know," Robert emphasized. "My own daughter going behind my back with the help. And now you two are expecting and I'm supposed to accept this? I can't! She may be your wife but she will always be my little girl. I can't forgive you for taking her away. And if only you could keep your mouth shut at the dinner table when-"

"Papa?"

Tom turned to face the voice at the door. He knew it well, and even as he received such a berating from her father, he smiled as he saw his wife there, the light cast in behind her. "Syb-"

"Tom, please," she said, her voice coming at him like a whisper as she placed a calming hand to his shoulder. Sybil then turned to her father, her posture strong and steady. "Why don't you say these things to me, Papa?"

"Sybil, please, this isn't your place…" Robert mumbled, picking up his newspaper. He hid behind it, unable to face the look on his daughter's face as she watched him so adamantly disapprove of the love she had for her husband. He may have not seen it before but surely he saw it now. It was present in the way they held hands in the library as Sybil tipped her head back to laugh. There was freedom there, freedom Robert seemed to regret never being able to give Sybil himself.

"It was never my place, was it? You don't get it, do you? I'm not your property!" Her voice was thunderous now, begging to not only be heard but listened to as well. "I don't belong to anyone, not even Tom! I am my own person! I acted the way I did all those years because it was what I wanted." She touched a hand to her belly, feeling the baby somersault in her womb. "I'm sorry you don't want to hear it but I used to sneak out to the garage because it was what I wanted to do. I wanted to see him, I wanted to be with him, and it was my choice to leave!" Robert cringed, watching as Tom reached up to stroke her hand still on his shoulder. "I can make my own choices and I'm sorry that scares you! But please do not badger my husband for things he only supports. Do not get angry with him for allowing me to make decisions you never could!"

Robert stood up. The newspaper fell off his lap and to the ground, leaving the frail pages to drift slowly down to the floor. "That is enough!" he yelled.

Sybil and Tom remained, neither seeming to be too moved by Robert's actions. Sybil merely turned to Tom, imposing upon him her own wish. "Let's go, Tom. I'm tired."

"How dare you! I am your father!" It was a reminder, one that Sybil was all too happy to ignore.

She lived in a different world, even now that she was back in this house. Her world, far removed from that of her father's, allowed her the liberty to walk and talk as she pleased. Far from this place she would have liked to run, but the child growing inside of her and the man that helped to put it there made her stay.

"I am done here Papa! I am married now and I can do as I please. I am not a little girl anymore and in case you couldn't tell I am about to have my own child soon and I will not allow you to belittle the love we've created. Tom..."

"Please do not rub your marriage in my face, Sybil. It's hard enough as it is..." His voice was much calmer now, though it still outreached the volumes touched upon by his daughter and her husband. Tom barely spoke, but his eyes burned into Lord Grantham like a flame through steel, creating a hot patch of metal that eventually went up in flames.

It didn't get that far though, and for Sybil's sake, he doubted it ever would. Tom found himself with more and more control the longer they stayed here. She had sacrificed so much, her old and her new life to secure his own happiness. He thought back to the other night, her body wracked with sobs as she relayed to him the news of the nursing position she had received in Dublin had they been allowed to stay. He cried with her, kissing her hairline in apology. He never wanted any of this and he felt stupid and selfish for allowing his political views to misprize the love he had for this woman, his best friend. "I'm going upstairs with my husband. The stress is not good for our baby. Goodnight, Papa."

Robert watched them leave. They were connected, with Sybil holding Tom's hand. He stroked at her finger with his thumb, doing his best to remind her that he was always there even when such a thought seemed to be so far removed, as removed as he sometimes felt from all of this. It was then that Robert saw her, the same little girl with a mop of curls atop her head, appearing to him in flashes of pastels, yellows and lavenders and blues, as she ran back and forth chasing their old dog around the gardens.

She would always be that girl, even now as a woman. Her hair was short the way it was then, and she wore much darker colors, no longer cinched at the waist to accommodate the child she would soon welcome into the world. Sybil was different then and she was different now after having forged her own life beyond this estate. Robert took it all with a grain of salt, refusing to allow the interaction and many of the others they had had just like it to make him feel defeated. He resolved though, to try harder, and he took a page from Tom's book, as he resolved to bite his tongue, ignoring how bitter it tasted.

In the hall now, Sybil kissed Tom's cheek, snuggling into him as they walked away from the dining room toward the staircase. "Are you hungry?"

Tom chuckled. "No, but I'm sure you are," he teased, knowing how in these last few weeks her appetite had increased drastically. She was always asking the maids or one of the footmen for a glass of milk and some biscuits, even if the family had just finished a meal. Few things sat right in her stomach and many of the odors that wafted around the house close to dinner made her dizzy. Tom would insist she lie down, but she refused, instead using her own breathing to cure the nausea while he rubbed soothing circles into her back.

"Come down to the kitchen with me?"

Tom only smiled, bringing her hand up to his mouth to kiss her knuckles in agreement.

They snuck downstairs, past the pantry and the office, into the empty kitchen. A startled Daisy jumped at seeing the two of them down here and immediately she asked Sybil if there was anything she could do for her.

Sybil only shook her head, looking around to the spotless kitchen, untouched even after such a large meal. "I'm sorry to bother you, Daisy, but would it be possible for me to look for something to eat? I'm awfully hungry," she said, her cheeks blushing as she looked down to her swollen tummy.

Tom looked over his shoulder to where the rest of the servants, mostly the younger staff, sat in the room opposite the kitchen, discussing the day's events, laughing at mishaps and teasing one another. He was once apart of all of that, and part of him felt the familiar tug to go and join them. Thomas walked toward the couple, standing next to Tom as Sybil began to follow Daisy to the ice box. "Lady Sybil, can I get you anything?"

Sybil looked over her shoulder, smiling at the young man she used to work with. She had always had a soft spot for Thomas, one she relayed to a rather jealous Tom once in the garage. He may have appeared curt to the rest of the world, but he was rather kind with her, and always very respectful. "Oh no, Thomas, but thank you. Daisy is just going to help me find a snack and then we'll be out of your way."

"Take your time, milady," he yelled after her as Daisy led her out of the kitchen toward the back store cupboard. "You got lucky with that one," Thomas whispered, not even bothering to look at Branson.

Tom looked up, catching eyes with the footman. "Not you too," he joked, feeling at ease that there was someone in this house he could finally have a sense of humor with. Thomas and O'Brien never bothered him the way they seemed to bother the rest of the house. They made their comments, often telling him he should be quiet with his views on the world, but that was really it. Tom enjoyed O'Brien's snarky nature, and often loved the way he would catch her and Thomas feuding. It was reprieve from the otherwise mundane life he used to have.

"Are you two here for good then?"

"I don't know," Tom managed. "Whatever she needs."

"You'd stay here for her? They hate you…"

His response came all too quickly. "I know." And he did. All too well, actually.

"That's admirable, I suppose," Thomas began, still looking ahead. "I don't think I'd be able to do it."

"Does everyone down here hate me too? I mean…"

"Carson thinks you're an abomination," Thomas said plainly causing Branson to laugh. "But I think the rest of us could care less."

"You too?"

Thomas finally looked at Tom, smirking at the former chauffeur. "If you break her heart, I'll break your neck."

Unsure of why, Tom smiled back. Such a threat was comfort in this house. "We've made it a year. Doesn't that mean anything to anyone? We are married..."

Sybil and Daisy were coming out of the pantry now. Thomas looked to Tom, throwing one last notion over his shoulder: "One day at a time."

"Whatcha get?" Tom asked, seeing the plate in Sybil's hand.

"Pear tart and a banana," Sybil beamed, showing off her plate with it's cut up fruit and fresh pastry. Tom had guessed the biscuits would be served at breakfast the following morning and he thanked Sybil with a kiss to the cheek as he pulled her into him, seeing she had two pastries on her plate.

Daisy carried a cup she walked to the stove with. She retrieved a pot from its position hanging down from the ceiling and poured the glass's contents into the pot. She lit the stove, stirring the milk with a wooden spoon so it didn't create a nasty top layer of fatty film.

"Warm or hot, milady?" Daisy asked, still stirring the milk.

"I'm sure that's fine," Sybil said, standing on her toes to see the contents of the pot. Daisy removed the mixture from the burner and poured the warm liquid into a mug.

"Daisy, do you mind if we eat down here?"

"Of course, milady. Can I get you anything else?"

"Oh no," Sybil said hurriedly. "You've been such a big help. I really do hope Mrs. Patmore doesn't scold you for this."

"We appreciate it," Tom added, earning a smile from the young kitchenmaid. Daisy walked past them, disappearing up the back stairs to where her room was. The apron she hung on its hook swung as Tom watched Sybil hoist herself up onto the counter in the middle of the room. She rested her plate on her lap, immediately biting into the sweet treat.

"Hungry?"

"Don't tease," she laughed, swallowing the doughy biscuit. "Will you still love me if I get fat?"

"You won't get fat," he said. Tom leaned into Sybil, resting his hands on her knees as he kissed her nose. "But yes, of course I'll still love you."

Sybil continued to eat her tart. She sipped at her milk and then placed the glass back down on the wooden countertop. "Imagine if my mum saw me here."

"Ladies shouldn't put their bums on the counters in the kitchen."

"Good thing I'm not a lady anymore," Sybil smirked in her husband's direction before going on to eat her banana. She bit at it and he watched her as she devoured the fruit in tiny little bites. She looked like a child, her feet dangling down toward the grown as she inconspicuously chewed at the pre-cut banana pieces. Tom laughed.

"What?"

"You look silly, s'all…"

Sybil dropped her food, putting the almost clear plate by her side. "That's comforting."

"You're beautiful," he muttered, trying to dismiss her lack of amusement. When she refused to let it go, he kissed her lips, slowly at first, then more passionately. Cupping his neck, she drew him in. If it weren't for the counter she sat on, he would have been pressed fully into her.

"Oh, I'm sorry!"

The sound pulled them apart. Sybil and Tom looked to the door where Ivy, the new kitchenmaid stood, untying her apron. "I didn't know anyone was in here."

"We were just going," Sybil mumbled, her lips swollen and her cheeks flushed. She jumped down off the counter and began to wipe her hands on her dress. Tom pressed a steady hand to her lower back, bringing the plate with his pastry up to their room. Sybil dropped her dirty glass in the sink, hoping Daisy wouldn't mind washing it in the morning. The two hurried out of the kitchen, laughing over being caught. The servants left in their quarters stared at the two as they bounded up the stairs, giggling all the way.

At the top, they hung a right, heading for the staircase in the main hall. The rest of the house was silent, with just a few candles flickering in the absence of sound.

The young couple entered their room, finally able to catch their breath. "That was mortifying!" Sybil croaked out. She was standing in front of the armoire now, ridding herself of her velvet dress to replace it with her nightgown. Slowly, she draped the material over her head, then past her shoulders. It stopped though, bunching at her expanded waist. "No, no no," she whined.

Tom looked to her. He was in just his pajama bottoms now. "What's wrong love?"

"This doesn't fit anymore. I am getting fat," she commented, removing the material and throwing it to the ground.

"Wear my robe," he commented.

Sybil looked around, finding the garment laying on the back of the chair at her desk. Really, it was his desk now, as he spent hours there reading and scribbling notes in a legal pad.

Seductively, Sybil grabbed the material. She removed her bra, and slowly threaded her arms through their respective sleeves before tying the plush material at the waist. All the while, Tom watched her, seeing as the cream knickers she wore peeked out as she walked toward the bed, each step revealing more and more of her leg. "Cozy," she commented, hiding her body under the covers.

Tom finished getting dressed before joining her. He left the light on his bedside table illuminated, not yet wanting this night to end. He leaned into her. "Can I talk to her?"

Sybil was propped up on her elbows, staring down at her enlarged stomach. She couldn't see her toes, and she wondered how ridiculous she looked in her husband's bathrobe. "Of course," she whispered.

Tom peeled back the flaps of his robe, revealing their child cocooned so warmly within its mother.

"You know, we always call it a girl," Sybil began. Tom was rubbing her skin now, pressing his calloused hand to rub at the smooth expanse of her midsection. He remembered the first time he had touched her like this. It was in Liverpool, when they had gotten more than carried away at the Inn they had stayed at during their first night alone. Her tummy was taut then, but he knew that they would get here eventually.

Tom kissed her stomach and then looked up at his wife. "I think it is a girl."

"Me too."

"She's going to be stunning, just like her Mama," Tom said, placing another kiss to her sensitive skin.

"I hope she gets her Papa's eyes."

Another kiss and then: "Oh really?" he asked, still eye level with her stomach.

"Really," she teased.

"I hope she has her mother's hair. And her button nose. And your heart. She has to have your heart…"

"Her Papa's got a pretty good heart too," Sybil began. For a reason she was unaware of, she began to cry, feeling the tears on her cheeks before she was even able to acknowledge them pooling in the corner of her eyes. "I am so emotional!" she sputtered, allowing him to wipe away her tears so she wouldn't have to. "Whoever she's like, I just want her here."

"Me too," he agreed, kissing her nose. "We've waited long enough."

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Thank you for reading! I really do appreciate all of the support this story has gotten since I began posting. I can't say it enough.

x. Elle


	25. You and Me

**A/N: **My author's notes have been ridiculously long lately. Sorry about that!

I've had this written for almost a month now but I think it's quite fitting I'm posting it when all of these Rock the AU stories are being posted. This is how, in my mind, the Branson delivery should have been handled. Enjoy!

**Song: **_You and Me_ - Dave Matthews Band

* * *

Tom rolled over. His cheeks were kissed, not by the lips of his wife but by the light she had turned on illuminating her side of the bed. Doing his best to adjust to the change, he opened his eyes and saw that her side of the bed was empty. It was then that he sat up, so awake and suddenly very worried.

"Syb?" He asked, pushing off the covers so that he could stand where she stood, at the foot of the bed, resting against the bedpost. "Is it time?"

"I don't know. My water hasn't broke yet but she's kicking like crazy. I can't sleep…"

Tom touched a soothing hand to her stomach, feeling their child there, moving and twirling to make her presence known. "We're calling Dr. Clarkson."

"Tom…" Sybil began. She gave up quickly, feeling another rather painful kick in her abdomen that caused her to double over. "It's time," she assured him.

A few minutes later, Dr. Clarkson was at the house. Cousin Isobel arrived shortly thereafter, just as Sybil had requested. The two had grown close, with Isobel being a mentor for the youngest Crawley daughter even beyond her nursing years. Sybil wrote to her while she was in Dublin and was comforted to find that Isobel still stood up for the young girl at the dinner table, much in the way she had in the letters they exchanged. As she told Sybil, Isobel was especially fond of Tom and she often admired the respect shared between the two young lovers.

The only thing complicated about Sybil's pregnancy was the argument that occurred just an hour before when Sybil insisted that Tom be in the room during the delivery. Cousin Isobel sided with Sybil, admiring Tom for wanting to experience such a thing while Dr. Clarkson struggled with the idea that for the first time he would not be the only man in the room.

When they arrived, Tom and Sybil were having a similar discussion, one that they assured the rest of the room was most certainly not an argument.

Two nurses walked around the room, readying towels and instruments for the birth. Sybil was back on the bed now, massaging her stomach through the pale material of her nightgown. Tom sat at his desk, writing a short note to his mother to be sent out in the morning. He didn't look at her, but the two somehow shared glances that made Dr. Clarkson and Isobel anxious.

"Sybil, you really should have woken me up," he called over his shoulder.

Sybil sighed. "I was fine." She breathed out. "You woke up, didn't you?"

"Tom, maybe-" Dr. Clarkson began. He was cut off, Tom sitting next to Sybil on the bed to hold her hands in his lap as he leant in and kissed her forehead.

"We're fine," they both replied, lost in one another for the last time before the night changed them forever.

Two hours later they were parents to a beautiful little girl with a crown of hair as dark as her mother's. Freckles spotted the tip of the child's nose, mimicking the skin tone of her father. All of these things would change, they imagined, but they wished a picture could be taken of them so lost in this moment. Their daughter was perfect, and they both said so as they took turns leaning down to press kisses to her small round face. Both parents were as overjoyed as they could be, coddling the child as they held onto one another. Every so often, Sybil would lean into Tom, and kiss his neck or his cheek. He'd return the favor, pressing a kiss to her cheek and then the corner of her mouth. The more this continued, the more they seemed to forget that they were not alone.

A knock sounded at the door, pulling them out of this dreamworld. A nurse answered, finding Lady Mary on the other side. Sybil invited her in, smiling just as wide as her sister as Mary caught sight of the child. Unable to hold her joy, Mary covered her mouth with her fingertips. Everything about the picture before her whispered momentums of happiness, ones she used to have to strain her eyes to see.

"Hi," Sybil whispered, unable to take her eyes off her daughter.

"She's beautiful," was all Mary could manage. She stepped into them, just as lost in the moment as Sybil and Tom were.

"She's your goddaughter," Tom said, finally looking to Mary. The glance didn't last long; his eyes immediately returned to Sybil and their daughter.

Mary stepped into them, sitting on the opposite side of the bed. "Really?"

Just long enough to miss a yawn escaping from her child's mouth, Sybil smiled at Mary. She nodded, and Mary beamed.

"What's her name?"

"Madeleine."

"Pretty," Mary managed, still covering her lips. But the word was not enough. Suppressing the ping of jealousy swelling in her own stomach, Mary noticed how happy they all looked, just lost in one another; the most perfect little family.

Mary returned out to the hall where everyone else was waiting for the news. "Sybil would like a wash before anyone sees the baby. She apologizes for making everyone wait but she's awfully tired."

"And how is the child?" Edith questioned.

Mary couldn't contain the smile she refused to let disappear from her face. "A girl," she began. "Madeleine...absolutely stunning."

When Dr. Clarkson and Isobel left the room, the family filtered out, some returning to the library where Carson had set out tea, while others, Mary and Matthew in particular, went to their room to await the news. A nurse remained in the room, tending to the child in her bassinet while Tom grabbed towels and a fresh nightgown from their armoire.

The nurse ignored them, finding herself to be just as infatuated with the child as her parents were. If it weren't for Sybil's exhaustion and Tom's need to make her feel better, Sybil would have refused the bath Tom offered her. She gave in though, needing to feel warm water and the pads of her husband's fingers on her aching muscles.

"Are you ready?"

"I can walk," Sybil said, watching as Tom leaned down to pick her up, already making it up in his mind that he was to carry her into the bathroom. Her voice said one thing, but her body said another. Sybil nestled into her husband, realizing only then when her daughter was out of her arms and she was in his, how weak and vulnerable she was feeling.

Tom had already begun to run the water when Sybil handed their child over to the nurse. When they entered the bathroom, Tom gently sat Sybil down on the bench in the corner by the window before walking over to turn the still running spout off. A silence washed over the room as Sybil watched her husband dip his calloused hand into the water to test the temperature. It must have been perfect, because he returned to her. He pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth, and he would have deepened it had she not read his mind.

Sybil moaned. She slipped her tongue past his lips to the warmly delicious confines of his mouth. Something that used to be like the exchanging of secrets was now a secret for them to keep. They'd tell the world eventually, or maybe the presence of their daughter already had, but they were madly in love, and growing more and more fond of each other as the days passed.

Sybil's toes touched the cold marble floor below, bending and stretching along the stone. She dragged them, and Tom noticed, watching her grow more and more impatient. Again he found himself kissing her lips, slowly at first, then, as if it was something she had asked for, cupping her cheeks and tasting her, pushing his tongue past her lips. It was always like this; a kiss to his temple in appreciation and an embrace from him to return the favor. She moaned, feeling a different kind of electricity burning in her stomach.

Tom toyed with the hem of her nightgown from his position kneeling before her. He lifted it up, urging Sybil to sit forward so he could rid her body of the soft material. Golden skin glistened. She was still warm from the pushing and breathing that had rid her body of all of its energy. Now, she was naked, and he resolved to tell her just how beautiful she was, even exhausted and pained like this after such a natural task.

A smile tugged at her lips while Sybil gave in, allowing Tom to press small kisses to her neck. He ran a hand down to her stomach, touching the skin that used to protect their daughter.

"Beautiful," he murmured, suddenly missing the swell of her tummy but knowing that she was just as perfect like this. He blushed, and she did too, thinking how long it would take for her to be in that state again, expecting and round.

"You were great," he whispered before pressing a kiss to her earlobe. Sybil leaned into him, no longer thinking of how unattractive she must have looked. Such a thought quickly disappeared as he continued to love and praise every inch of her. It made no different to him. He had fallen in love with her before all of this, before she was allowed to tease him with the fancy lingerie Mary had bought them for their wedding. He liked her mind, and the woman she was. Of course he loved her like this, and he would show her too, showering her skin with kisses and words of admiration. What was important was that the kisses and the words didn't cease the moment they were through and she put her nightgown back on. If anything, they only continued, and she found herself repeating such things back to him, her words thick with gratitude.

When he picked her up, a set of goosebumps dotted her skin, only to disappear as he helped her to settle into the warm bath water.

Sybil leant back, feeling the bath water caress her skin, causing her to relax. She dropped her head back, feeling the cool white porcelain hug her neck as she stretched her feet out to rest on the other end of the tub. She hadn't had a bath in nine months and the little girl in her, the Lady even, missed the feeling of being encapsulated in a large tub like this. The one they had in Dublin felt as if it was half the size. Sybil giggled, thinking back to the time when they had christened that tub only after making love on the bathroom floor. It may have been smaller, but their bathroom in their flat back at Dublin held memories this room never would. At least not yet, not before tonight, she thought.

Tom had disappeared, walking across the room to the linen cupboard. He grabbed a soft washcloth, a sponge, and Sybil's favorite bottle of rosewater body soap. Watching him go, she admired the way he had rolled up his sleeves and never allowed the exhaustion he was also feeling to take over his features. Instead, he was proud, only allowing the elation he felt for his wife and their new daughter to remain on his face.

She didn't need to ask, and she certainly didn't object. He kissed her forehead and then began loving all the different parts of her with the warm washcloth he held caressing her skin. He began at her toes, using the sponge to massage her feet. Each toe then the balls of her feet received the love they deserved as he thanked her for being so strong tonight.

Then, he moved up, to her ankles first, then the insides of her calves. He kissed the skin there, making waves up toward her knees. This caused Sybil to brace herself on the sides of the tub. With her head still dropped back, she felt as if her body was on fire even as the water in the tub began to cool. Something that was so beautiful earlier that night had now become passionate, as he showed his gratitude up and down the skin of her stomach, paying special attention to her lower abdomen.

He knew that perhaps he shouldn't, but a small smile urged him on, as he allowed the sponge he was holding to dip beneath the water and tease at the swelling between her legs. She was in pain before and parts of her still were but she felt nothing now except for the way her husband loved her body, each and every inch of exposed skin, all of it, shivering beneath his touch.

The sponge was dropped and Tom picked up the washcloth that had floated to the bottom of the tub. The soft cloth was at her breasts now, pressing soft circles into her skin as he washed her skin with the sudsy material. She cooed, dropping her head back. The water was warm, but Sybil found herself hardening as the water and his hands created a delicious friction upon her chest. She wanted to cry out but she was too tired. Instead, the silence acted as a comfort, confirming everything it ever took to bring their child safely into this world.

"Tom…" she attempted. Her voice dropped off though, unsure of what to say to thank him just as much as he was thanking her. This was gentle and urgent and every ounce of what she craved. "I love you," was all she could manage before her mouth dropped off saying other things in silence.

His hands responded, continuing to comfort her as they whispered something similar in return. She was unsure of whether she should fall asleep or kiss him. Her body wanted both, but she accepted the latter all too willingly. It was him who had to guide her through it and she was suddenly reminded of their first kiss and how nearly two years ago she was forced to allow him to do the same. Then, she was self conscious but now she was so very sure that she wanted him like this. And that such a thought was okay to have and would forever be okay.

Tom paid special attention to her hair, massaging her scalp as her black curls were taken over by the shampoo he lathered her head with. She leaned into him, her eyes fluttering as his fingers pushed her hair into thick soapy curls. With his help, she dipped her head back, ridding her hair of the soap so that a small film of suds remained at her hairline. With the washcloth, he pushed that away before pressing a kiss to her wet forehead. She smiled into it and captured his lips against her own. Even like this, so frail and tired, she needed him.

"Thank you," she whispered as they pulled away. She was clean now, but her body was still tense. She wanted to hold her daughter, and for her husband to hold her as she did so. All was confirmed as he helped her stand up, quickly wrapping her body in a fluffy towel.

She leant into him, practically collapsing against his frame. He picked her up again, not bothering to drain the tub before carrying her back to their bedroom. The nurse saw them enter, and quietly stepped away from the basinet where Madeleine was fast asleep. She didn't smile at the couple, knowing better than to interrupt such a moment. She had never seen something like it, the willingness of a husband to appreciate his wife after such an act. Tom did all of that though, and so much more. As he heard the door shut behind him, he walked to the armoire, making a stop on the way to glance down at his sleeping daughter in her crib.

"How is she?"

Tom could only smile. "Perfect."

"She looks just like you."

Sybil shook her head. "She is all you, love."

He sat next to her now. In his hands he carried a pair of lace knickers and a freshly cleaned silk nightgown. It was his favorite and due to the growing child inside of her, she had not been able to wear it since before Mary's wedding.

"Lay back," he instructed. He watched as she did so. Sybil allowed her towel to drape open, laying beneath her like a blanket while her skin dried underneath the dying light of the fire.

Parts of her still ached, but she calmed down as he pushed her knickers up the length of her legs before slowly pulling them up over her hips. Laying before him in nothing but panties, she closed her eyes, feeling so exposed. She didn't move though and she enjoyed the way, even in this state, she was still so beautiful to him. Everything he felt for her was everything she was too afraid to feel.

Sybil lifted her arms toward the ceiling, allowing Tom to drape the material over her head. It pooled on her shoulders before drifting downward only to pool at her waist. She scooted up, allowing him to reach for the material and pull it down to finish off the process. He kissed her forehead and then walked away, getting back into his own pajamas. He wanted to wait, to prove to her family that he could handle all of this, and appear to them just as they wanted, if only for her. He didn't care at this point. They both had worked so hard to get to where they were, here, in her old room, a room they both had called home for the past week. He wasn't going anywhere, and now with the birth of their daughter and the conception of many more children in the future, he wasn't sure he wanted to. They could think what they wanted, but he was happy. Somewhere, maybe not here nor back in Dublin, that was enough.

The young couple was underneath the covers of their bed when the family walked in. Sybil was holding their child, with Tom holding her. Mary stood back, watching as the rest of the family admired the child she was already so in love with. She understood it now, and she saw the way Sybil and Tom needed nothing of the sort. Still, such thoughts were comfortable to them now, especially with a child to care for and no other cares in the world.

All of the family members gushed on how beautiful the child was. Cora commented on her button nose and the black curls atop her head. Matthew and Edith laughed as the child cooed against Sybil's chest, clearly wanting to be fed again. Robert was silent, but agreed with all that was said. It was only when the family filtered out, that he thought of all of the words he wished to give to his daughter and her husband and how there must be a time in the future for them to be said. He was happy for her, that much he knew. He hoped she knew it as well, or at least felt it as she watched him stand by intently.

When they cleared, Sybil allowed Madeleine the one thing she had practically been asking for since her birth. For the second time that night, she allowed her daughter to latch onto her breast and begin sucking. Sybil winced, causing Tom to look over from the book he was reading to touch a soothing hand to her shoulder. "It hurts?" he questioned, simply unaware of the answer.

Sybil could only nod. She closed her eyes, allowing a rush of pain to wash over her as their daughter continued to milk. "I'm just sensitive," she replied. Soon, it became easier, and Sybil and Tom both watched in total adoration as their daughter fell asleep still connected to her mother's chest. They could only smile as she detached her small mouth from Sybil's nipple. Sybil sighed at the loss of contact, allowing Tom to take their child and put her back in her crib while she covered herself back up.

He got back into bed, pulling her close. "You did great," Tom whispered before pressing a kiss to her temple. "You're so brave."

Sybil smirked, looking up to her husband. "You're brave. I think Dr. Clarkson almost fainted knowing you were going to be in here through it all. And I think that's supposed to be your job, the fainting and all. Most men would…"

Tom kissed her nose. "I couldn't miss this." He breathed out, feeling sleep settle into his body. "She's perfect. You were perfect."

"Tom?"

"Yeah, Syb?"

"Let's just spend the entire day in bed tomorrow. I don't care what they think and if they say anything about you joining me, we can ignore them because it's what _I_ want," she emphasized.

Tom beamed. "I'd love that."

She didn't respond. Her body was too weak and an answer was not needed. With the lights still on, they both allowed sleep to take them. Curled into one another, they kept their promise, sleeping in the next morning only to spend the entire rest of the day in bed. It was the first and last day they would ever accept trays up in their room.

Sybil and Tom passed Maddie (as they had begun to call her) back and forth. They were taking turns eating small bites off their plates before once again getting lost in the love they created. They napped when she napped, and spent moments in the lazy heat of the summer afternoon propped up on their elbows discussing how happy they were to finally be here. They were parents and their daughter was healthy and blithe. They had waited for this moment for far longer than either of them could have guessed. Now that it was here they were afraid to open the door allowing the light from the hallway and all of the world's preying eyes to come in and question their state.

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As usual, thanks for reading! Please please please review if you feel so compelled!

x. Elle


	26. Little Victories

**A/N: **I hate that I have to do this, but if you don't like this story, don't read it. Simple as that. I'm sorry if my portrayal of the birth was not up to your standards. I purposely left out the details because I wanted it to be fluffy - the exact opposite of what was portrayed in 3x05. How dare I write about it in an idealistic manner after Fellowes butchered the opportunity for such a beautiful moment. Blasphemy!

**Song: **_Little Victories _- Matt Nathanson

* * *

Sybil was on the couch in the drawing room. Madeleine was laid in her lap, the small length of her form resting comfortably in the crook of her mother's legs. The light green frock Sybil wore acted as a blanket beneath the child as she cooed and laughed at her mother's funny faces.

Sybil laughed, pulling Madeleine into a sitting position. The child smiled up at her mother, unable to do much else. Small mewing noises escaped her plump lips but she was far from crawling and an even longer distance from talking.

"Dear god, you are so tiny." Maddie looked at her mother with her father's eyes, wide and adoring. "Is Mama's baby girl just the tiniest?" Sybil asked, knowing that the smile her child gave was better than any words she would someday be able to form. "I wonder where your Papa is…" Sybil began, looking over her shoulder to the ajar door on the far wall.

Tom had gone out with Matthew that morning after a question he brought up at breakfast had sent Matthew and Robert's heads spinning. In particular he was commenting on their inactivity on checking up on many of the tenant farmers who had just received new farm equipment for dealing with the land. Robert replied, rather snappily, about how he would gladly go check out the equipment when it was due for inspection next harvest.

Tom ensured them this was not enough, reminding them of the many failing textile mills in India after the crown withdrew funds the year prior. Such a comment, no matter how foreign, did not seem to phase Robert or Matthew. "These people work for you," Tom continued. "You cannot instill a product on them and just expect it to work. It's not fair. They are used to their old ways and will be inclined to return to them. But the old ways won't make you or the town any money. If you do not keep up on the equipment, and something goes wrong before the next harvest, they will allow it to go wrong. It happened in India, I've seen it happen in Ireland, and it will most certainly happen here in Downton. The Industrial Revolution was great for some, but change scares most. It needs to be monitored if you want to see improvements." Then, as if he hadn't said anything at all, he continued to read the paper and drink his cup of tea.

Sybil could only smile as she fed herself and their child who was perched nearby tightly strapped into her wooden highchair. Tom may have been abrasive when it came to his own politics, but there was a very large part of him that was so wordly and knowledgable about other parts of the world too, and all because he did have a kind heart and compassion to match her own. She saw him read the paper, much differently than her father ever did. Like Robert, he received an irish paper now, and read that rather extensively, but when he was done, as requested and covered under his own savings, he read a printed paper out of London that covered more international news. Of course the bias was clear, and that made him roll his eyes, but beneath it all, Tom was able to keep himself informed.

That was over three hours ago, and Sybil was growing rather restless waiting for her husband to return home. Parts of her, very small parts, loved that she was able to raise their child here. Other parts, missed Dublin and hoped that this place wouldn't ever be missed by this child or any of the others she knew they would someday bring into the world. Places like this can be sought after, and visited, Sybil thought, but castles do not raise children.

She was comfortable here though and awfully safe in this place that was once home. If they were back in Dublin she was sure she would be back to work by now. Thinking of the job she was forced to forfeit due to her husband's political passions made her heart swell and her head pound. She did not blame him for what he did, she only wished he would have told her more about it. But that was over and done with, and there would be other jobs and right now Sybil only cared for the time she was granted to spend with her daughter and husband. Such time surely did not exist anywhere in Dublin.

"Oh Sybil, there you are."

Sybil turned around. It was not Tom, but Mary who stood at the door with Edith. Both girls were in the process of taking off their hats and gloves and handing them to the new footman, Jimmy. The rest of the house called him James, as per Carson's request, but after hearing he preferred his more colloquial name, Sybil agreed to call him just that, taking him on like one of her old causes.

"Jimmy, can you bring up some tea, please?" Sybil said, leaning forward so that her presence was known to the footman.

He smiled at her, reminding Sybil of an incident a week earlier when Tom commented on how he was staring rather longingly at Sybil during dinner. With a laugh, Sybil brushed the thought off allowing her mind to simply acknowledge just how attractive the new footman was before moving on to more important things like the child she was nursing in her arms.

"Yes, milady," he managed before disappearing out the door with Mary and Edith's belongings.

"And where were you two?" Sybil inquired, still refusing to take her eyes off of Madeleine. Unable to support the weight of her own head, the young child nuzzled into her mother's chest for support. Sybil giggled, kissing the side of her daughter's face.

"Out looking for a house for Edith."

"Mary!" Edith countered, turning immediately to her sister, even with her hands still folded neatly in her lap. "It's not like that…"

"Like what? Tom said he overhead you talking to Matthew about wanting to move out. It's not like that then? Is that somehow embarrassing or silly in a way that I am unaware of?"

Mary listened to her sister's tease one another. She could only roll her eyes before sipping at the cup of tea Carson had just poured for her. "I'm afraid you have shocked this house beyond recognition, Sybil…"

Sybil sipped at her tea, still firmly holding her daughter in her lap. "I have no idea what you're talking about," she said, her eyes traveling upward with the encouragement of the blush now flooding her cheeks. She knew exactly what Mary was referring to, but she wouldn't dare apologize for it. They had their time to be shocked and to question how, but now, more than two years since her and Tom announced their engagement, she was wishing this house had gotten over all of that. Mostly, they had.

Sybil sat forward. "I think it's lovely that you want your own cottage, Edith."

"You would."

Edith ignored Mary and smiled. "Thank you. It's just a thought. I can't live here forever. When Mama and Papa die it won't even be their house…"

"Oh stop blubbering about it! A man will come along, Edith. Maybe if you didn't sit around whining so often, he'd come right up to you but you can't be found among all this complaining. It's suffocating!"

"Mary, be nice," Sybil warned, rocking a now sleeping Maddie in her arms.

"She needs to grab a hold of her life."

"I think that if you want a cottage you should have a cottage," Sybil confirmed, agreeing with Mary.

"Well you always think that you should have what you want."

Sybil stood up to place Madeleine in her bassinet by the door away from all the chatter. Walking back to her sisters, she placed her hands lazily on her hips but still demanding of some form of respect. "What does that mean?"

"It is insensitive! Mary can't have children, I can't get married and you have these things and you flaunt them!" Edith barked.

Sybil rested her hand on the arm of the couch. She looked away then back to them, both of her sisters, one nearly in tears and the other appearing cold as ever. "I flaunt them?"

Edith stood now too. "You do!"

Mary, with her eyes fixed on one of the statues on the far wall had finally returned to the conversation. "Oh, Edith, leave her alone."

"I will not! I have every right to say all of this."

Sybil sat down, wishing desperately for this discussion to return to being a civil one. In all honesty, she couldn't remember the last time she had spoken to her two sisters like this, since even before she left for Dublin. It was rare for all three of them to be home and in appropriate moods for such an activity. It was exhausting, even at their age, to get along.

"I will not apologize for being happy!" Sybil defended. She used the plush cushion next to her for support as she leaned into the space her sister's were occupying. Especially because it is exactly what I want for you both!"

Edith rolled her eyes and turned away. "Hardly," she spat, taking her tea cup with her.

"Edith, enough!" Mary said, joining her sister's in sitting on the edge of her seat.

"You are blind if you think I don't want babies for Mary and a marriage for you. That's exactly what I want and I want it because I know how much both mean to me," Sybil said, practically in tears. "I love my husband because he is my best friend and I love Maddie and I will love the rest of my children. But I also love the both of you and I hate that you act as if I live to spite you. I did not get pregnant to upset Mary. I got pregnant because I am in love and that is what married people do. I did not get married to upset you, Edith. I got married because I was in love. I did what I did because I loved Tom and he loved me back. Now please stop badgering me! Let's not act like all of this came so easily! I had to leave my home and my family to get the life I wanted! And I would not trade my life now for the world or the universe or the heavens above but dear god if it wasn't work getting here."

Mary pressed a frustrated hand to her forehead. Sending her eyes heavenward, she averted her attention away from Edith back to their younger sister."Sybil, I'm sorry Edith has taken it upon herself to blame you for my misfortune. I didn't..."

"No, I'm sure you didn't."

"I'm sorry," Edith mumbled.

"No you're not!" Sybil scoffed. "You're miserable and I would be too! I can't imagine what being stuck at the altar felt like. And I can't imagine what it's like to be barren," she raised her voice, now gesturing to Mary.

Edith looked upward. Perhaps it was to keep from crying or to avoid the gaze Sybil was casting upon the both of them. Part of her, no matter how often her and Mary bickered, was just as sorry for Mary as she was for herself. She may have been jealous for once upon a time wanting Matthew, but such lack of beginner's luck could only be chalked up to a simple crush. She saw the way Mary and Matthew were with one another, and she wanted happiness for them if only so that it was okay for the same to happen to her."What curse is this?"

"What are you babbling on about?" Mary spoke, rather quickly. She wasn't being curt or insensitive. Her words often appeared without her own acknowledgement and once they were out, she couldn't possibly retract them even if she wanted to.

"Why is happiness so hard to come by in this house?"

"It's here. You just have to know where to look," Mary said rather flatly.

"Or maybe this place is your problem. Maybe it's all of these places." Sybil inhaled sharply. "We were brought up to think Downton, our world is safe but the world stretches much wider than this estate. It's the people not the places and things that bring me joy."

"I like it here," Mary reminded. She was every bit the woman their mother was when reprimanding Sybil about her choice words regarding how she was raised. It was fascinating to Sybil, and most likely to everyone else as well, how three girls, now made women by a war and time, had grown up to be so utterly distinct.

"And I'm not belittling that, Mary. I'm just saying that joy should exist even without all of this."

"My joy does. But a child would be nice..."

"You will have a child...and I'll come with you to ensure that you do!" Sybil reminded, reaching out to place a reassuring hand to her sister's arm.

"Where?"

"To a doctor!" Sybil beamed. Suddenly the idea was more fun to her than it was to Mary.

Edith was staring off now, her gaze lost on the painting near the fireplace. "Unfortunately my problem can't be solved by a doctor..."

It was Mary first, then Sybil who began to laugh, but only after she heard a chuckle escape Edith's own lips. They all let go, giving into the anxiety they had created to allow for more laughter to fill the room. Such noise continued and when it began to die down, it started up again, raising to the level of a bright roar. "When is the last time we laughed like this? Like really truly laughed?"

"Honestly?" Edith began, blinking at Mary. "I can't remember."

Behind them, Maddie began to whine, her soft mews turning into a loud scream. Before Sybil couch reach her, Tom was at the bassinet, tucking his hat underneath his arm so that he could pick their daughter up. As the two shared a rather passionate kiss, Robert, Matthew and Cora entered the drawing room and went to sit by Mary and Edith, ignoring their youngest daughter's display of affection with her husband holding their newborn in his arms. It was something they had become rather good at, deciding it was easier to ignore such an obvious thing than to shed light on it and cause them to go scurrying into the shadows. Or maybe it was a talent they all had never lost from so many years ago when Sybil was still a Lady and Branson was no more than her family's chauffeur.

At one point or another, everyone in this house from the help to the family had discovered Sybil and Tom making up for lost time. It infuriated Robert the way it would with any father but he knew better than to comment on it. He and Sybil rarely spoke now other than her occasional sentiment of gratitude for the help he had provided both her and Tom. She loved her Papa, and always would, but she was no longer his little girl, and she swore that was a privilege he gave up and not the other way around.

"May I see her, Tom?" Mary asked, referring the child that was now cooing in his arms as he and Sybil joined the rest of the family.

Tom happily handed the child over, knowing that he would have plenty of time with her before lunch. He and Sybil also loved the way Mary and Matthew had taken to their respective god-parenting roles even before the Christening. It was them who encouraged Robert and Cora to attend.

Always in defense of her baby sister, Mary and Tom were growing to have quite a civil relationship, one that involved many witty remarks back and forth. Of course Tom thanked Sybil and Matthew for such a bond, but he was growing just as fond of Mary as she was of him.

Sybil watched the interaction between Mary and her goddaughter. She watched her oldest sister press kisses into the child's face before holding her close and rocking her back in forth in her arms.

"Sybil and Tom, we'd like to talk to you."

Edith looked up, asking a question Mary and Matthew would have thought of had they not been so lost in entertaining Maddie. "Should we go?"

"You can stay," Sybil said before returning her attention to her parents. "Yes?"

"We were wondering if you had discussed employment while you were here…"

Tom beamed as Sybil began to explain how she had talked to Dr. Clarkson the week prior and mentioned returning to nursing. He offered her a temporary position working as a walking nurse, going from home and home to do sick visits. Sybil happily accepted after wages and work hours were discussed.

"And you, Tom? Surely you do not wish for Sybil to collect a steady wage on her own."

"No, sir. I was thinking of getting a job at a garage in Ripon…"

Sybil's eyes widened as she turned to Tom. She shook her head, as if to yell "no!" "I thought we agreed you weren't going to go back to all of that, Tom." She breathed in. "You're better than that."

"Was I better than that when I used to drive you around?" Robert and Cora winced and Mary and Matthew separated from their goddaughter long enough to sense the tension in the room. Edith did her best to busy herself by running a few fingers along the rim of her tea cup. Tom's words were calm but sure, like a reminder to Sybil she would never forget.

Sybil reached up and touched a palm to her husband's cheek. "I didn't say that, love."

"I need a job, Syb. Your father is right; I can't let you work by yourself. That's not fair. And I won't have Madeleine growing up thinking her father can't provide for his family," Tom said, making Sybil immediately think of his own father and the hardships they had endured when Tom was a child. Those same hardships led to him working at Downton and then them eventually falling in love. But no, they couldn't possibly have that for their daughter.

"If I may…" Matthew began, holding Madeleine in his arms as he stood up and went to sit closer to the rest of the family. The child was a comfort and a shield, somehow forcing all of the previous hostility to float away. "I have a proposal."

Everyone looked up to Matthew, waiting for him to continue. Sybil, Mary and Tom looked especially intrigued. He continued. "I brought Tom out to the farms this morning because of what he said at breakfast and I'm sorry to say it Robert but he seems to know more about the best way to landlord than we do. I know this is your home but someday it will be mine and I just can't see us even getting to that point if the finances and relations keep on the way they have been."

Tom looked to Matthew. "Oh, I couldn't," he managed, turning his gaze to Sybil for support. Unfortunately for him, the same apprehension was lost on her, and she brightened, imaging her husband managing the same land that raised her. "There's not-"

"But you can," Matthew said, almost as an offer. "And if it's alright with Robert I'd really like you to help me turn the estate around."

"Alright."

All eyes jumped to Robert. He did nothing but sit casually in his chair. His body language showed no signs of distaste for what his son in law was proposing. In fact, he seemed to be relaxed by the suggestion, almost as if he was actually considering giving Tom a chance. He had done the same thing once before, when he first welcomed to the young man to Downton as a chauffeur. Now, years later, he would do the same thing, knowing that if anything, Tom was hard working and reliable.

"You mean it, Papa?"

"Sybil, do not act so surprised. Tom was a good employee before and I trust that he will help Matthew in the same way now."

"Will you do it?" she asked, turning back to Tom.

"I, uh, I don't know if-"

"We'll discuss it later then," Sybil said, knowing Tom hated to be put onto the spot like this. Edith and her parents filtered out of the room leaving the two couples behind. Matthew passed Madeleine back to Sybil. She immediately kissed her cheeks sending the baby into a smiling fit. Tom leaned into his two girls and placed a kiss on his daughter's tummy. Sybil laughed, watching the expression on their baby's face change as she was suddenly unsure of her father's action.

"You know," Mary said, not quite making eye contact with Sybil or Tom. "I think Papa actually wants this. He won't ever admit it, of course, but he didn't object and that's saying a lot."

Sybil took Tom's hand and held it in her lap. "See?" she beamed. "He likes you…"

It was then that Mary looked over. She sent her eyes heavenward, her feet still crossed at the ankle. "Well now you're just being overly optimistic…"

~!~

"Two pints, please."

Tom smiled at his brother in law's request. "Alright, then. You do mean business…"

Matthew grabbed for one of the glasses set down in front of him by the man tending bar. Tom grabbed the other, and went to put down money as well, but was stopped by Matthew. "You're going to save the estate. I'm buying you a drink."

Tom followed Matthew to a table in the back of the pub. "You know, you're the only one that doesn't make everything about social class I was born into."

"I don't care about that," Matthew said over his shoulder. "I wasn't much above you at one point."

Tom smiled. "I think you were," he said rather cockily causing Matthew to only brush the comment off.

Matthew continued to nod at several of the bar patrons before picking a booth in the back of the crowded pub. A thick film of smoke floated about near the ceiling, causing Tom and Matthew to sink down into the booth. Each man took off his hat, then his trenchcoat, both of which were haphazardly laid next to them on the bench each man sat on. "Do I have to do that? I mean, should I do that?"

Matthew sipped at his ale then looked up. "Being friendly to people in town? I wouldn't advise against it," Matthew teased.

"Yeah but you say hello to them because they're your tenants, right?"

Matthew shook his head and swallowed down the ale coating his tongue. "I say hi to them because they're people. And you don't have to do anything you don't want to do. I just think they're all a little scared of Robert. It's as if he's King in feudal times and I can't have that when Downton is finally mine. I want them to know me and feel comfortable with me. That kind of relationship is good for business."

"So is letting them own their own land."

"Not right now. In the future, sure. But even you should know that that kind of shock isn't good for the economy. They need to be guided through it." Matthew watched Tom's eyes bulge as if waiting for a better answer. "Not because they're stupid and most certainly not because they're lower class farmers," Matthew emphasized. "The estate pays for a lot of things it no longer would should they own their land. I've looked at the books and trust me, I've thought of letting them even lease their land, or own it for trial periods really. It just wouldn't work it. And that's the problem. We need to get them to a point where their profit is enough so that they can be self-sufficient."

"Have you told Robert this?"

"No…" Matthew trailed off. His gaze was fixed on a group of young teenage boys that had just walked into the pub. It reminded Matthew of his time spent in Manchester when he was training to become a solicitor, before he met Mary and before he was meant to inherit the estate. He remembered the gaiety all boys held quite well. There was a simplistic joy in being that young and not ever bothering to worry about tomorrow.

"It won't be his matter soon," Tom assured. "I mean, he is your father in law and he is Lord until his death but-"

"Are you planning something?"

Tom laughed. He swallowed his drink and then wiped at his mouth with his palm. "No. And don't say that too loudly. Some people in this town would love to believe that."

"Ahh, they're not that bad."

Tom looked up. "You don't see it. Sybil takes it pretty hard but I don't think they even realize they do it. They gawk at me, at the baby, at her for leaving. They just don't know."

"No they don't," Matthew stated strongly.

"What did they say after we left?"

"What didn't they say after you left?"

Tom softened. "No, really…"

Matthew sighed. "That you had gotten her pregnant. That was the big one. Or that she was having the baby of a dead army general and she paid you to marry her so she wouldn't be alone for the rest of her life."

"Robert tried to buy me off."

"He did not."

Tom smiled, suddenly finding the fact to be much more humorous than it ever was. "He did."

"Oh my god…"

"And you think you had it rough."

"Actually, I don't. It's awful, really," Matthew began. "Robert is a good man if he thinks you're a good man. And I don't think he doesn't think you're a good man. I mean, he sees the way Sybil is so obviously in love with you and you with her, I just don't think it's in him to suddenly forget the past and treat you like a chum."

"Right," Tom said before sipping his ale to get rid of the bitter taste in his mouth. He still couldn't get over what Matthew had told him about what was said about him and Sybil after they left for Dublin. He could handle it, and so could she, but he didn't want her to have to. That was never the plan when they left for Liverpool to start their new life.

"So will you do it?"

Tom looked up. "What? Oh...yeah," Tom said, settling on the word when he found no others suitable. "Yeah, I will," he reassured.

Matthew lit up, and leaned across the table to fervently shake Tom's hand. "Oh good! This is so great!"

"I won't be here forever though. I can't be…"

"No, of course not. And this won't take forever. Just a few months, maybe a year. We just need to get Downton back on its feet."

Tom shook his head. "I can't promise I'll be much help but I'll give my opinion when I can."

"That's all I'm asking."

"Okay, then."

"Your daughter is beautiful…" Matthew said, getting them off the topic of Downton and onto something he was sure Tom was much more comfortable talking about.

This was all confirmed as Tom tried to finish the last of his pint, clapping the glass down on the table when he failed to do so. "We all have her mother to thank for that. Let's just hope she inherits her mother's temperament as well."

"She'll be fine. You and Sybil are great with her."

Tom looked up to meet the gaze Matthew was casting upon him. He heard it in his voice and now felt it, the way Matthew was saying things he only wish could be so personal. "You'll have kids," Tom offered. "Soon too. Sybil told me she wants to go to the doctor with Mary."

"But who am I if we need a doctor for that sort of a thing?"

"Uh, a man who fought a war? Don't let anyone tell you this isn't the right way. Who's to say there even is a right way?" Tom gestured around to the pub. "You and Mary will have children and they will be jovial and spoiled and we will all just have to hope they get your friendliness…" Tom said, hiding behind his almost empty glass of ale. A smirk could be seen on his lips and Matthew joined him, only after throwing him a "watch it" look.

The two men continued like this for at least another hour, watching and laughing, as the rest of the patrons in the bar filtered out. Tom told Matthew how he brought Sybil here after their failed elopement and Tom was surprised to find that Mary had never disclosed their time at Gretna Green to him. It made him think that perhaps Mary did always have Sybil's best interest at heart. She knew, like Matthew did now, that if anyone was to ruin Tom and Sybil it would be the world that surrounded them, and not those who claimed to love them. Mary did love Sybil. Everyone at Downton did, really. And they were growing to love Tom, a notion made easy by the constant attention he paid to his daughter and wife and the job he had just willingly taken on.

Tom and Matthew walked back to Downton, both slightly buzzed, but happy at their new contract. The two boys had shared a bond, one beyond weddings and jokes made about marrying Crawley women. They did have a lot in common, and they were able to be themselves with one another. Matthew kept Tom in check, and Tom reminded Matthew that he was not always an heir.

At the top of the large staircase, the two men separated. Matthew disappeared into the bedroom he shared with Mary and Tom walked to Sybil's bedroom, their bedroom really, where he hoped he wouldn't disturb his sleeping wife and daughter.

When he entered, however, the light on her side of the bed was on. Maddie was in her bassinet by the fire sleeping soundly and Sybil sat on the bed reading a book. A lazy braid rested on her shoulder, covering the thick strap of her soft cotton nightgown. This one was new, Tom thought. Or at least he had never seen it before. It hit her a few inches below the knee, and he thanked God that he was the only one ever allowed to see her like this.

"Why are you up?"

"I was waiting for you," she whispered, not wanting to wake their daughter up. "How was the pub?"

"Good. You should have come."

"Ladies don't go to pubs."

Tom was on the bed now, leaning into his wife to capture her lips against his own. "I brought you to a pub once. And if I remember correctly you did very well for yourself."

Sybil covered her face with her hands, sinking down into the bed as a rush of rose ran up her chest to her cheeks. "Oh god that was awful," she recalled. "Your mother was so disappointed…"

Tom grabbed the back of her neck, using it as leverage to bring her forehead down to him. He placed a kiss there, then stood up to begin getting ready for bed. "She was disappointed at me for getting you hammered," Tom said with a laugh. "I'm serious. You held your alcohol quite nicely."

Sybil returned to her book. "You're evil."

"I'm taking the job," Tom called over his shoulder. He was unbuttoning his shirt and soon he was standing before her in just his trousers as he went to the armoire to grab his night shirt. He would sleep in his briefs the way he always did in the summer months. Sybil didn't mind. In fact, she'd probably rid him of his shirt later as well.

"Really?"

"I hate that my pay comes from the estate but I really think I can help Matthew out."

"Thank you, Tom."

He was dressed now, and getting into bed. He pulled the covers she had laid down for him up over his legs so that it was both of them sitting up, ensconced by the confines of this room. "I wouldn't do this for anyone else, Syb."

"I know that."

"I don't want to return to being a mechanic. It was fine when I was younger but it's now what I really enjoy. But I'd do it," he said, catching his wife's eyes upon his own. "I'd do anything for the both of you."

Sybil sighed and placed her book down on her bedside table. She didn't care to keep her place or to remember what it was she was working on. "I know you would, Tom. And I love you for that. I am so in love with you and how hard you work for me and our daughter," she said, nuzzling into him. She was straddling one of his legs now with one palm pressed flat against his cheek with the other resting on his shoulder for stability. "I want you to know that," she said, rubbing at the stubble on his cheek. "You know how much this means to me, don't you?"

Tom nodded. "I meant what I said all those years ago. I am going to devote every waking minute to your happiness, Syb. And now to Maddie's happiness, and the happiness of the next kid."

"And the next?" she teased.

"And the one after that."

"And after that?"

Tom sighed. They had discussed three and always disagreed when it came to the fourth. "We'll see what God gives us."

"Do you want to try?"

"Already?" Tom croaked, nearly choking on the air he was trying to breathe in. "Maddie is…"

"No, not now. Not for another year maybe. But we could," She wiggled her eyebrows. "Practice."

"Practicing is good. Practicing is very good," he whispered before capturing her lips against his. She breathed him in, fisting her hand gently through his hair. They continued like this, going as far so that Tom's hands were running plays up and down Sybil's smooth stomach. They had to stop though as Maddie winded up and began to wail. She was like this lately, wanting to feed at the most inopportune moments, and growing cranky when Sybil refused her such a task. Sybil knew that a few weeks of unhappiness would benefit their child in the long run if it meant regular meals and a happy child. Tom was amazed at her ability to let the child cry. In fact, he had been the one to always run to her bassinet and rock her in his arms. Sybil would often roll his eyes, swearing that if they had had a boy, it wouldn't be like this. Part of her knew it would be though. It would be like this for this child, and the next, and the next as well.

* * *

I wasn't going to post this until tomorrow morning but I was feeling giving (no, but you all can thank **dustedoffanoldie** for this!).

The closer we get to the end (there are only 8 more chapters left!) I'm starting to think I should have written more. But alas, I am not Julian Fellowes and I know better than to beat a dead horse.

(That idiom is a bit ironic here, don't you think?)

Anyway, let's enjoy this as it winds down, shall we?

As usual, thank you so much for reading! Reviews are awesome too, if you're feeling up to it!

x. Elle


	27. Raining on Sunday

**A/N:** There's a bit of gaeilge that I originally had in here but deleted at the last minute. I'm kind of at this point where I like to acknowledge that there is a possibility of them speaking it, but for me to actually write it involves awkward emails to my father asking for tense correction and then mood-killing footnotes at the end of each chapter that explain what each phrase means. Sorry, just my opinion. So ignore it being explained instead of actually spoken.

**Song:** _Raining on Sunday_ - Keith Urban

* * *

There had been an embarrassing moment this morning. One that prompted Sybil to get out of bed much earlier than she had planned and run downstairs to talk to Mrs. Hughes. Everyone stared at her, immediately growing concerned as the young mother darted around the kitchen asking for the housekeeper. The kitchen maids all ensured her she would be down shortly and then continued to stare at Sybil as she waited patiently outside the downstairs office that both Mrs. Hughes and Carson shared.

"Lady Sybil, can I help you with something?" Carson asked, coming down the stairs. "Is the baby alright? Where's Mr. Branson?"

"He's upstairs with her, thank you Carson. We're all fine. I just need to discuss something with Mrs. Hughes."

"Are you sure there's nothing I can do, milady?"

Sybil shook her head quickly, recalling that morning's activities only to reassure herself that she most definitely could not discuss this with Mr. Carson.

"As you wish, milady."

"Mrs. Hughes!" Sybil jumped up from the chair in the hall as she saw the housekeeper walking toward her. Mrs. Hughes hurried her actions, immediately asking the same questions Mr. Carson had. Sybil assured her all was fine, before asking the housekeeper if she had a minute or two.

"I suppose I do." She guided the young woman into her office and shut the door behind them. "Is everything alright?"

"Well…" Sybil began. "I was just wondering if it would be possible for the housemaids to be held off while everyone is in Scotland?"

"Why ever so?"

Sybil looked to the ground. When that wasn't enough, she kept her hands clasped down in front of her, and she fidgeted, shifting the weight of her body from one foot to the other as she searched for the words. "I appreciate the work they do, really. And I understand that they only want to help, but this new maid, Edna, the one who opens the windows and makes our bed, I just don't think she's quite ready for all of that."

"So am I to remove her permanently or just while your family is in Scotland? I promise you, milady, she was given to us on very good reference…"

"Oh no!" Sybil said, afraid she had offended Mrs. Hughes. In all honesty, Sybil and Mrs. Hughes had always respected one another. If Mary was Carson's favorite then Sybil was Mrs. Hughes'. "I just don't think she had been trained properly, maybe. Can she at least be held off until we ring?"

"Well that is what all of the housemaids are taught to do unless you've given them a specific time for waking. Has she not been compliant?"

"This morning...no…" Sybil finally managed, her cheeks turning red.

Even then she could feel it, the trembling in her thighs as Tom lapped at her center with his tongue that morning. He soothed and licked her clit as he ran a finger up and down her warm slit, loving every inch of her body, and finally giving this last part of her the adoration he felt she deserved. It was then that their bedroom door swung open and Edna, the new housemaid, invited herself in to open the windows. By then, Sybil had covered both her and Tom up but only after she had clamped her legs shut tightly around her husband's head. "The fuck, Syb?" But he was quiet, hearing as the maid scurried away, laughing into her apron before shutting the door to their bedroom.

Remembering all of this, Sybil brought a shocked hand up to her lips.

Mrs. Hughes leaned into the young girl and pressed a calming grip to her forearm. "I will talk to her…"

"Oh no, please don't. This is so embarrassing…"

"Lady Sybil, you are a married woman. These things happen. I will talk to her."

Mrs. Hughes walked away, never once casting a downward glance at Sybil. Maybe she was busy, or maybe she didn't understand what it was that Sybil was referring to. Surely, Sybil thought, her face had said it all.

Sybil ran back upstairs, grabbing Maddie's warmed bottle from the counter where Mrs. Patmore always left it. She thanked the kitchen staff and then disappeared, taking the stairs quickly. When she reached the top, she cut through the foyer, then up the grand staircase, heading toward the bedroom she shared with Tom.

The door was still open, and Tom was dressed now, holding a sleeping Madeleine in his arms. He was sitting in the armchair near the fireplace, making silly faces at their daughter while she grabbed for his face. He laughed, paying no mind to the housemaid admiring father and daughter as she made the bed.

She asked him, in extremely broken gaeilge so as not to alert Edna, why he was sitting in the chair. Tom replied, in plain English, no longer caring for pleasantries. "Because this is my room and our daughter was crying and I don't see why I have to be displaced just so the bed can be made. Really, I don't see why the bed has to be made as soon as we're out of it anyway." He was looking straight ahead before, but now he looked up to Sybil, searching her eyes for answers.

"Remember when we were in Dublin how we spent our Sundays?" He didn't need to continue. Words in english or gaeilge could never recount their Sunday mornings in Dublin the way both he and she currently were.

Sybil only smiled. She reached out to push back his fringe, then touch a cooling palm to her daughter's forehead to do the same. She remembered just as well as he did, and both swelled, wanting so badly to experience those mornings again.

Sybil handed the warm bottle to Tom. He tested the liquid on his wrist, just as he was sure Sybil had done after taking it from the kitchen. Maddie grabbed for the bottle and even did her best to hold onto it with her small hands. She was more than a year old now, and the perfect combination of her mother and father. She was beginning to look more like Tom and less like Sybil as she grew up, and as much as Tom said he felt bad for the child, he also couldn't help but to tell her how beautiful she was, hoping one day she'd understand the word for its worth.

"Thank you, Edna," Sybil spoke at the maid after she remained far too long when the bed was done being made.

"Of course, milady," Edna said, flashing Sybil, and then Tom and Maddie a smile before leaving the room.

Sybil followed her all the way to the door, then, without warning, shut the door firmly in it's frame before locking not only the bottom lock but the top one as well.

"What?"

"I'm going mad!" Sybil screeched, throwing her hands up as if to surrender to it all. She walked to the bed and collapsed, allowing her legs to flail upward as she leaned back. Abruptly, she sat up again. "I can't take it. I can't handle this house or the constant company, or the planning. I don't want it. I want-"

"You want Dublin," Tom pointed out. He walked behind her and laid Madeleine in the center of their large bed. Sybil scooted up to protect the child as she rocked back and forth and began to play with her feet. Tom laid down so that he was on the other side of their still small child.

Sybil rested her head on her hand. Tom mimicked her actions and both parents acted as a fence to cage Maddie in and keep her from crawling, or worse-rolling, off the bed. They would do this at night after Maddie had had her last bottle of the day and still refused to fall asleep. It was their time to shut out the world, and now, with it not even eight o'clock in the morning, they were doing the same thing.

"Did you burp her?"

"She didn't want much of it…"

Sybil tilted her head as if to show her dissatisfaction. "Tom, she has to eat. You can't let her always have her way."

"She'll have her cereal when we eat breakfast after mass," Tom commented, knowing this was a discussion they'd never settle. "Look how happy she is. I dare say, she's not that hungry."

"But I am trying to get her back on a schedule for when I start work regularly next week." Sybil sighed. "It's going to be you or a housemaid that have to tend to her if she's cranky. This isn't normal…"

"For her to be spoiled?" Tom rolled his eyes. "You turned out fine." He picked up Maddie and laid the child on his chest. She crawled up, immediately patting out a rhythm on her Da's cheek. She giggled, and then screamed out, causing Tom to laugh, and Sybil to join in on when she couldn't keep a straight face anymore.

Sybil reached over to touch Maddie's cheek. The infant grabbed her finger and began to shake it up and down. "She's getting strong," Sybil commented after her daughter let go of her hand. "Did you pack her bag?"

"It's by the fire. Do you think Mrs. Patmore has any of those special biscuits for the car ride?"

Sybil sat up. "I hope so. She loves those...don't you, darling?" Maddie cooed in response before going back to chew on the material of Tom's undershirt. "Here, I'll take her and bring her downstairs. You need to get changed and bring the car around."

Tom sprung up and handed their child to Sybil. "Keegan is bringing it around for us," Tom said, referring to the young chauffeur they had recently hired. He couldn't have been any older than nineteen, and he was always especially polite to Tom and Sybil.

Maddie began to cry, but was quickly mollified when she realized the person she was being given to was her own mother. Like clockwork, Sybil rocked the child to sleep. Only then, did she lean down to grab her bag of nappies, washcloths, and toys.

Tom had his shirt on now. As he buttoned his vest he turned to Sybil. She was sitting on the edge of the bed now with a sleeping Maddie in her arms. The child's large day bag was slung over her shoulder and rested on the bed for support. "Remember how easy it used to be to go to mass? Now this…" His voice trailed off, referring to the process that was their Sunday ritual.

They went to mass and returned an hour and a half later. The drive to Ripon was pleasant, but the drive home was rather rough, with the streets beginning to mud up from the falling of the rain. The downpour continued as they pulled up to the front of Downton, where rain made no qualms about pounding on the gravel below, making the soles of shoes squish as they attempted to tread quickly.

Mrs. Hughes appeared at the door to help Sybil with Maddie. Performing a task she had a million times, Sybil managed to quickly get the swaddled child and her bag out of the car and to the front door without a drop of water hitting the child's body. "Can you bring her up to the nursery to nap?" Sybil yelled through the pouring ran. The youngest Crawley girl was soaked now, right to her core.

Mrs. Hughes nodded, holding a sleeping Maddie close to her chest to keep her away from the rain splashing in from outside. "And I'll tell Mr. Young to come get the car."

Sybil softened. "We'll put it back. We're already wet. No use sending the boy out in this weather."

"Lady Sybil…" Mrs. Hughes began. But she was cut off as the young girl ran back to the car and hopped in. She watched, still holding the child, as Sybil said something to Tom, both of them laughing as Tom put the car in drive and rode off toward the back of the house.

"She knows what we're up to," Sybil said. They had finally reached the path to the back of the house. She knew this route well with every little turn and motion making her heart pound. "I do miss Dublin, but I miss this as well."

Tom looked over to her and smiled. He picked up her hand and kissed at her knuckles, still wet from the rain overhead. "You haven't ridden up front with me since we tried to elope," he reminded. "If we could afford it, I'd get us a car in Dublin, so I could drive you around and-" His voice trailed off. Luckily they were pulling into the garage, and right as Sybil's lips began to creep down his neck, Tom had a chance to put the car in park.

She went to step out, but he stopped her. "Let me," he shouted, the rain still very loud on the tin roof above. He ran around to her side of the car and let her out. She scooted over on the front seat to jump down but he stopped her. Tom pulled on her ankles, bringing her close. Sybil yelped, but quickly gave in, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck as she smiled into the kiss he planted against her lips.

Sybil was straddling Tom now, kept steady by the firm hold he had on her bum. He did not bother to shut the door, but instead backed them up against the side of the car, pushing all of his weight into her. Tom watched Sybil laugh, and quickly silenced her, tasting every inch of her wet mouth that she offered up to him.

"So wet," Tom murmured, burying his face in the crook of her neck. His hand was placed flat against the side of the car for leverage, but he was almost positive he wouldn't be able to take this friction for much longer.

Sybil pulled away. "You have no idea," she whispered before leaning down to grab Tom through his trousers. His eyes bulged at her words and the contact she had made with his warm member. She gave him a little tug, spurring him on. He obliged, picking her up again only to place her back down on the workbench near the door.

As Sybil remained grasping onto Tom, she felt his hand leave her back to push all of the oil cans and wrenches off the bench. The motion sent all forms of metal crashing to the ground. Sybil hungrily seized Tom's lips, not caring about the mess they made. This workbench had been claimed by them long ago. Maybe not in this way, but in so many others, from reading to talking about anything from politics to love.

"Do you-?"

Sybil nodded. "We're all set. I need you Tom, now," she gritted through clenched teeth. His hand was finding her now, doing its best to push up her skirt so he could feel her through the silk material of her tap pants. These were her favorite and his as well. He told her many times, and she listened, always buying more each time her and Mary ventured to London. It was a treat and a secret she'd keep from the rest of the world and only allow him to see. It was one of many, she thought.

Not even getting his pants off his hips, he was inside of her, their slicked skin dipping in and out of her. He kissed her lips, then her shoulder, thanking the rain pouring down for a stolen moment like this one.

Just as quickly as they had started all of this, it was over. Sybil hopped down off the bench to straighten out her knickers while Tom fixed his pants. The rain outside was still coming down, allowing them to take their time. When they were both sorted, Sybil leaned into Tom to place a kiss on his cheek. It was a thank you, for as rushed and urgent as they often were in their lovemaking lately, she enjoyed it all the same. Pleasure and adoration was never sacrificed and he was always one to put her climax before his own. She loved him for this and so many other things. Marriage was still simple, but it was intense sometimes too.

"Ready?" He asked. They didn't bother to clean up the mess they had left behind. Sybil, always the sensible one, had remembered to shut the passenger side door, but the oil cans and tinker tools were still on the dirt floor of the garage, now beginning to coat themselves in mud as the moisture from outside let itself in. They'd stay there until Keegan returned the next morning, forced to make his own assumptions about the state of the building.

Sybil nodded, grabbing his hand to force them both into a trot toward the back door of the house. Not once had Sybil ever been to this part of the estate before, much less through the servant's door. She felt daring, and Tom must have felt it too because he smiled at her and she smiled back and then suddenly they were laughing as they shuffled in through the door.

Thomas and Mrs. Hughes stopped, taking in the young couple. Tom immediately straightened, but Sybil, still with the confidence he had given her, pulled on his hand and tugged them down the hall toward the staircase leading upstairs.

At the top, she pulled off his hat and placed it on her own head, covering the curls she was sure were matted down around her face. Sybil dropped her head back to laugh again before running off up the grand staircase. Tom followed her, enjoying how their actions mimicked the teenagers they had given up long ago. They weren't those people anymore but part of them always would be.

Remembering who she was, Sybil stopped at the door to the nursery. Tom ran into her backside, peeking over her shoulder to stare at their daughter sleeping soundly.

"We made that," he whispered causing Sybil to laugh.

"We did," she replied, before turning around to capture his lips against hers. They were lost in the moment but she quickly took them out of it, running off down the hall to their room. Once again, Tom followed. He beat her, picking her up to carry her across the threshold.

Once inside, she threw down his hat and her coat. Tom was loving this side of her the more he saw it. In a way, he had seen it before, remembering it best when his mother caught them lost in a kiss on her doorstep. But this was different. She was at her own home and acting like this, and even though her parents were far away in Scotland, she couldn't help but to think she'd be this way if they were here.

"Take your pants off," Sybil stated plainly. She tied her silk robe and was just before him in that and the camisole she wore underneath. He imagined she had changed into knickers as well, but he couldn't see those, even with as short as both over-garments were.

Tom looked over at her and just smirked. "Impatient are we?"

"We already made love in the garage. I just want to spend the day in bed with my husband."

Tom was in just his briefs now. He stepped into her and nipped at her neck. Instinctively, he placed his hands gently on her hips and brought her closer to him.

"Hi," she whispered, pulling away. Then, she ran over to their bed and jumped atop it. She allowed her body to fall back, onto the plush pillows and the soft duvet.

After finding out about her son's incident (or "stupidity", as she called it) Helen sent Sybil and Tom a box of their things. Inside, more of Tom's clothing, a few books they had left behind, and most importantly, the duvet from their bed. Sybil remembered opening the large package and immediately pulling the comforter up to touch her cheeks. When Tom returned home from work he found her, cuddled under their old bedcovering reading a book. It was spring then, and definitely not the time to cover up, but he soon joined her, missing the memories this blanket once held as they both thought of all the news ones they could create, even back at Downton.

"Are you going to leave a girl waiting?"

Tom smiled, walking over to the bed. "C'mere."

Sybil obliged, crawling to his side of the bed so she could curl up against him. She was happy he put his robe on over his briefs. Sybil untied the flannel material, immediately reaching up to draw circles up and down his chest. She paid special attention to the tufts of hair that dotted his skin. Though she'd never truly be able to articulate such a thing, it was sexy that the same person she used to view as just her best friend, a boy then, had grown up to be such a strong man.

Tom smoothed back Sybil's still wet hair and kissed her forehead. "Mass was nice,"

Sybil cast a questioning gaze up at her husband. "Mass? That's what you're commenting on? Mass?"

Tom played along. "The ladies at church love Maddie."

Sybil smiled. "Everyone loves Maddie. She's the best little girl," she began.

A knock sounded at the door, causing Tom and Sybil to look over. "Lady Sybil, Mr. Branson," Mrs. Hughes called out. "Did you want a tray brought up?"

"No thank you!" Sybil shouted back. And then she followed it with words Tom never thought he'd hear: "We're pretending we're in Dublin."

There was a silence, and then Mrs. Hughes began again. "Excuse my ignorance but what does that mean?" She was confused, but also amused at the way Tom and Sybil had acclimated to life at Downton so quickly. Part of her was proud too, knowing that all those years would eventually bring them to this exact moment.

"It means-" Tom began, but his own insecurity at shouting at someone he both respected and used to take orders from made him self-conscious. Sybil urged him on though, a smile bright and wife painting her cheeks. "It means we'd like to come down to the kitchen and make our own meals."

"Lunch and dinner!" Sybil added.

"Alright, milady," Mrs. Hughes spoke in defeat. Both Tom and Sybil heard the housekeeper walk away and immediately burst into a fit of laughter, with Sybil hiding her head in the crook of Tom's neck.

"I read the letter your mother sent. Katherine's enjoying our flat, and she's seeing a boy."

Tom looked away. "I saw…"

Sybil sat up. "That's not fair, Tom. She's a good girl and this Kevin boy seems great too."

"I just don't like her living in the flat alone."

"Why? Because she's a woman and Ireland is about to catapult into war or because she had a boyfriend? You know, I don't really think either are a good enough excuse. She's doing us a favor by staying there and-"

Tom pressed a finger to Sybil's lips. She stopped talking immediately. "I just worry about her. The same way I worried about you when I left. She's too smart for her own good. She'll get herself in trouble with some of the things she says."

"She won't get herself in trouble. She'll be fine. Everyone will be fine."

"You always say that."

Sybil cocked her head. "And have I been wrong yet?" Tom rolled his eyes. He lifted the duvet for her, wanting her body pressed into his side again. Sybil was all too happy to oblige. "I'll go back with you…"

Tom looked down to her. His hand rested lazily on her head, rubbing small circles on her forehead with his thumb."I go where you go. I gave up that right a long time ago. I didn't miss Dublin much when I worked here and then I didn't work here and you came back with me and suddenly it meant so much but it wasn't the place...it was you."

Sybil looked up at her husband. She knew better than to allow her eyes to settle on him fully though. Such a look would send them both further into this then they were ready to devote time to. "Still, I will. Madeleine has to know where she was conceived." Then finally: "Dublin changed my life."

Tom looked down, a cocky smile playing itself across his face. "I thought I did that?"

"That goes without saying."

* * *

Thanks for reading!

x. Elle


	28. Sweet Disposition

**A/N:** As many of you asked, here is a bit more of what was hinted at in the last chapter. I know a lot of stories have dealt with this storyline since the CS, but I'd like to think mine's a bit different. Tell me what you think!

**Song:** _Sweet Disposition_ - Temper Trap

* * *

Although they both wished such a routine could have occurred in Dublin, it was nice at Downton too, especially with both him and Sybil back to work. The rest of the family had returned from Scotland just a few days ago, and already the house was back to its usual patter of rushed feet down open hallways.

Sybil had begun to work with Dr. Clarkson again, just as she told Tom she would. He loved watching her get ready, usual after he had returned from his morning review with Matthew, when he'd sit at his desk and stair at her through the mirror hanging on the wall above his head. This time was supposed to be spent comparing tax records and going over other finances to compare last year's revenue to this year's, but he was distracted by her.

He missed the old headscarf she used to wear, but he enjoyed how she was able to do a job, the same job she had always loved, even after war and a child of her own. Sybil was strong, and it was attractive to Tom that his wife not only worked but wanted to work. The wages he earned as estate manager were more than enough to keep his family sustained and happy, but it was about more than just money to Sybil, and Tom knew that.

As he walked silently up the steps he stopped in the nursery. He found Maddie standing up in her crib, smiling wildly at her father. Tom could only smile back, never able to deny the child the affection she so clearly deserved. He was his world, just as her mother was, and as she got older, Tom found himself wanting more. Sybil and he had discussed it, but such words were usually hushed by their lovemaking. They agreed that if it were meant to happen it would.

Leaning down, Tom picked up Maddie, and held her in his arms. She giggled, her lips blowing raspberries to express her joy as he brought her out of the nursery down the hall to the bedroom he shared with Sybil.

The door was open, causing Tom's shoulders to drop. He knew what that meant, and his notion was confirmed as he walked in and found Edna making their bed.

Normally he and Sybil would do it, just as they did in Dublin, but with both of them working it often was left unmade. They didn't mind, but Tom overhead Carson discussing it with Mrs. Hughes one day and it seemed such a practice was not allowed at Downton, even if the door to their room was to remain shut so that nobody could see.

Edna must have received the order to tidy up, but Tom was thankful she was nearing the end, evident as she went over to the chair where she had set their pillows down. Edna saw Tom and smiled as she fluffed the pillows and placed them on the bed. "Hello, Mr. Branson."

Tom sighed. Part of him knew that he was no better than this girl, and that deep down she was probably quite lovely. Another part of him had become one with this house and expected, just as the rest of the family did, that the servants were not here to make small talk. Knowing this, and wishing for silence and privacy as he played with his daughter by the fireplace, Tom merely smiled back, hoping it would not continue.

But it did, just as it always had. Edna always had things to say to Tom and questions to ask that he was sure she didn't need answers to.

He was on the floor with Maddie now, handing her a block. Tom was sure this would also be frowned upon by Carson, but he laughed all the same, loving watching his daughter chew the wood. When the child was no longer fixated on the block, she moved quickly onto a small doll, pulling at the arms and stretching the cotton material of the doll's dress as she lifted the doll above her head and screamed out in joy.

Tom looked over his shoulder to the clock above the fireplace and noticed that Edna was still in the room. "Edna?"

"Can I ask you something, Tom?"

Tom winced at the sound of his name coming from this woman. Even most of the family still called him Branson, and in all honesty, he liked it that way. Sybil was really the only one to call him Tom. He liked that as well.

Tom stood but managed to keep a watchful eye on Maddie, knowing that her newly learned crawling skills had gotten her in trouble lately. "You can if you call me Mr. Branson." As soon as he said the words, he felt guilty, thinking back to when he and Sybil put aside pleasantries all those nights in the garage. But that was different and they never saw each other divided the way he now saw the line so clearly drawn between him and Edna.

"How did you come to be estate manager?"

Tom smiled, thinking of the love story that he would soon tell his children. That was how he became estate manager, he thought. Because he fell in love. But as he looked up, to reveal a thought that he was so proud of, he saw Edna sitting on the edge of the bed he and Sybil shared lovingly every night. "Edna, please don't sit there," he commented, not wanting to sound as harsh as he did. He was growing comfortable and he was sure that such a thing was as evident to Edna as it was to him.

She stood at his request, but continued to smile at him, with her hands tucked neatly behind her back. She appeared to him much like a child would: uninhibited and energetic. "I think it's nice that people can move up in life, is all. At whatever cost," she stated, clearly misunderstanding what exactly it was that brought Tom to Downton, then to Dublin and back again. It was clear to Tom now that all niceties were to be set aside for as long as Edna remained in this house. Was she really insinuating that he had married Sybil to move up in life?

"Tom?"

Tom softened at the sound of his wife's voice coming in through the door. It calmed him, and reminded him of what was important. Edna curtsied and quickly left. Sybil smiled at the housemaid before running over to where Madeleine was crawling toward a potted plant. "Madeleine Sophia, do not touch that!" She instructed, causing the child to stop in her tracks and change her path toward her mother.

Sybil could only smile. She picked up her daughter and put her on her lap as she sat down on the bed. Sybil placed a smattering of kisses to the child's face, and Tom watched, loving moments like this when it was just the three of them.

"What was that about?" Sybil inquired, not allowing her face to show anything other than curiosity. As she waited for her husband's reply she continued to smile at their daughter, loving how she smiled back and laughed as her mother tickled her little tummy.

Tom joined his two girls on the bed, sitting close enough to Sybil so he was practically over her shoulder. "She seems to have quite an interest in learning my ways."

Now Sybil looked at Tom. She arched an eyebrow. "Your ways?"

Tom smirked. "Apparently I married you to move up in life."

Sybil let out a rather loud laugh. "Oh did you? Pity." She kissed her husbands lips and then passed their daughter off to him before she stood up and began to rid her body of the apron still wrapped around her waist from work. "She's sweet on you."

"I don't think I like her,"

Sybil turned around, looking over to Tom as she put her earring back in their holes. "She works here. You don't have to like her, you just have to respect her."

"She makes me feel uncomfortable." A beat and then: "I never made you feel uncomfortable, did I?"

Sybil dropped her hands and began to laugh again. "Tom Branson, you are on a roll this morning. No!" She piped out with the help of another laugh. "You never made me feel uncomfortable. Let me remind you that it was always me visiting you in the garage."

Tom set Maddie down on the floor. Sybil took this opportunity to take her daughter's place, sitting on Tom's lap. The moment and the conversation they were having was lost for a minute as the two shared a slow kiss. When they pulled away, they both smiled, with Sybil running her thumb over his lips. "If she really makes you uncomfortable you need to tell Mrs. Hughes."

"I can't do that…"

"Yes you can! You live here now. You have every right as I do. What if a footman were asking me odd questions about my life in Dublin? What then?"

Tom raised an eyebrow. "I'd kill him."

Another laugh from Sybil. "I bet you would."

"But I used to work here too, Syb. I don't want her to lose her job. I just want her to leave me alone."

"Will you stop being so weak? I'm serious, Tom. Discuss it with Mrs. Hughes. You know she loves you. She will handle it."

"That will surely start something. I could make passes at you and she can't make passes at me?"

"First off," Sybil began, pressing a finger to Tom's lips. She was oddly fascinated with him this morning. Last night it was his forearms, and the night before, the hair on his chest, but this morning it was most definitely his lips. "I allowed you to make passes at me. Secondly," she said, her voice growing stern now,"please don't ever compare what we had and what we have to a housemaid hitting on you. If you don't talk to Mrs. Hughes, I will."

"Fine," he sighed. "How was work?"

Sybil sat up straight and pressed a hand to her chest. He followed the line her fingers made, causing his eyes to stare at her breasts and the way they pushed at the soft purple cotton shirt she wore. "Lovely! Mrs. Campbell's going to have her baby soon. A week or so, I'd say."

"That's good."

"It is. Do you know they've been trying for four years?" Sybil's eyes widened at the information she revealed rather haphazardly. Immediately, she moved her fingers from her chest up to her lips to keep any more things from slipping out.

Tom chuckled. "No, but I do now."

"I wasn't supposed to tell you that…"

"I guessed that."

"Don't tell anyone."

Tom raised an eyebrow causing Sybil to laugh. "I'll try not to reveal that to Matthew when we share our town gossip."

"Oh!" Sybil said, swatting his shoulder. The two allowed their glance to travel down to where Maddie was sitting, right at Tom's feet. She looked up at her mother and father with wide eyes, the same eyes she had inherited from her mother and always wore when she wanted something. Sybil was happy to give it to her, leaning down to hoist the small child up onto Tom's other knee.

"Hi baby," Sybil whispered as the child smiled back at her. "What are your plans for the rest of the day?"

Tom sighed. "I actually have to head back out soon. I was going to go grab something quick to eat and then leave. Do you want to join me? Maybe we could eat outside before I go…"

Sybil sighed. "I can't. I told Edith I'd go to Ripon with her."

Tom kissed her cheek and then helped her to stand up. "Alright."

Sybil grabbed Madeleine from Tom's lap and watched him go, leaving her and Maddie to watch. She bounced the child on her hip. "Where's daddy going?"

Tom looked back to Sybil and their daughter, standing directly beneath the light hanging above. It illuminated them both and suddenly he didn't want to go. "I'll be back well before dinner. I was going to eat then because Matthew and I have that town meeting tonight. Will you be home?"

Sybil smiled, suddenly missing Dublin more than she ever had lately. "I think so."

Tom smiled, and grabbed at the back of Sybil's neck to place a kiss to her forehead. She closed her eyes and let it happen, then opened them again to see that he had done the same thing to Madeleine.

"Be safe," she called after him as he disappeared out the door.

Mary passed Tom in the hallway and smiled at him. She had just sent Matthew off as well and she knew that this would be time that her and her youngest sister could spend together as they so often did.

She knocked on the door, knowing better than to invite herself into the bedroom of a married couple, even if the door was slightly ajar. "Come in," Sybil called on.

She was on the bed now, leaning up on her elbow to stare at Maddie who sat chewing on her doll. Mary joined them, walking to the bed to sit down. "I saw Tom leave."

"Work," Sybil sighed. She smiled too, but Mary shrugged such an act off as being utterly disingenuous. She knew that her sister's relationship with her husband was far different from the relationship she shared with Matthew.

"He does it for you," Mary reminded as Madeleine crawled toward her. "He wouldn't work as hard if he didn't care about making you and Maddie happy."

Sybil looked up and smiled. "I know that."

Mary handed a rattle to Madeleine, watching as the infant put that in her mouth as well. It reminded Mary of the other day at lunch when the same child, set off near the dining table on a blanket, chose to pull at Isis' tail and try to put that in her mouth. Sybil and Tom immediately stood up and ran to her, but Mary and Matthew laughed, almost as a silent reminder of the children they'd someday have.

"Do you have a moment?"

Sybil nodded. "Are you pregnant?" Her eyes widened quickly.

Mary closed her eyes and shook her head. She let a smile spread across her thin lips, letting such a thing go only because she knew Sybil cared that much. Almost as much as she did herself. "I wish. But no. Soon," she said, almost as if she could feel it. "I actually wanted to talk to you about that maid Edna."

Sybil rolled her eyes. "Not you too?"

"What else have you heard?"

"Oh no, I thought you meant she had been talking with Matthew as well."

"I'm afraid not. Just Tom…"

Sybil leant back. The wear of the day was beginning to weigh heavy on her and she thought about how she really would enjoy a nap. "What do you mean?"

"I passed the hall when they were talking before. She's awfully forward," Mary stated. "It's clear she's interested in him."

"I've dealt with girls like her before. But it doesn't matter. He's not interested in her."

"Just be careful," Mary managed.

Sybil sat up. One of her legs drifted off the bed and down toward the ground, leaving the other to bend in toward her on the bed. "What do you mean?"

Mary sighed. "I just mean that you know how all of this works-"

"No I do not!" Sybil corrected, raising her voice to a volume that nearly startled Maddie. The child, with the rattle still in her mouth stared at her mother now, urging Sybil to calm down. "So why don't you explain it to me," she whispered now, her voice coming out scratchier than usual. "What are you getting at? Are you saying that because Tom used to work here that he'd be inclined to take this girl up on her offers?"

"Sybil, that's not what I'm saying. All I'm saying is that I heard their conversation and it's clear the girl has feelings for your husband. And he is your husband and I know how much Tom loves you so I would never allude to anything on his part. All I'm saying is that he did nothing to stop it."

"I know. He told me. He feels ashamed because he says he used to do the same thing to me. As if-"

"Well is that true?"

Sybil was standing now, with her arms crossed stiffly across her chest. Her gaze was transfixed out the window, as she bit at the nails of the hand she held in a fist near her lips. "NO!"

"Sybil, I'm sure this is just as difficult for him as this is for you. I know this isn't the life you two wanted but now you have it. And he is just a part of this house as you or I and this girl needs to be dealt with."

"He told me to leave it be. I know he doesn't want her to be fired." Sybil bit her lip and then turned back to Mary. "I said that to him once…"

With Madeleine in her arms, Mary walked to Sybil, placing a loving hand to her back. "Oh, darling, this conversation wasn't meant to go here. Listen to me," she said, picking up her sister's chin with her thumb and forefinger, "what happened all those years ago between you and Tom is not at all what is happening now. You didn't tell anyone about Tom because you were falling in love with him. He's not saying anything about this girl because he doesn't feel as if it's his place. But guess what? It is his place because you two are married now and your love isn't a secret. If he wants, I'll go talk to Mrs. Hughes with him…"

Sybil laughed, wiping a lone tear off her cheek. "No. He can do it. He's just too damn nice!"

Mary smiled. "No. He's scared. I can't say I'd think it were my place if it were him. But it is and Carson, no matter what he thinks of Tom, loves you and wouldn't allow that behavior here."

"Thank you."

The eldest Crawley sister shook her head. "I love you, Sybil. Just because we're married now and you with children doesn't mean I stop looking out for you."

Sybil looked up. "You'll have children soon, Mary. I can feel it…"

"Thanks for looking out for me as well."

"Edith and I are headed into Ripon. Do you want to come?"

"Whose watching Maddie?" Mary asked, referring to the child resting on her hip playing with the string of beads hanging around her neck.

Sybil smiled. "She's coming with us, of course."

"Can I stay with her?"

"You want to stay with her? It'll only be an hour but she'll need to eat and be changed…"

"Please?"

Sybil could only smile, but she felt the pull in her heart and the drop of her gut at her sister's clear want of a child of her own. Of course she could watch the child, and Sybil trusted her to be attentive and caring. She had heard a woman in town talking the other day about how it was good Mary had yet to bare a child because she feared the child would be as cold as her mother. But Sybil knew better; Mary wasn't cold. She was calculated, but she had a big heart, and she knew that someday, hopefully soon, she would be the best mother.

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Thanks so much for reading! Only 5 more chapters after this one! Eeep!

Don't forget to check out _**Beautiful Collisions**_ on my profile page if you have yet to do so! I'm going to begin posting regularly to that as soon as this story is finished.

x. Elle


	29. Black Mermaid

**A/N: **I lied! After *this* chapter there are 5 chapters left. This is seriously giving me the worst anxiety. I don't know if I'm ready to say goodbye to this story yet.

**Song:** _Black Mermaid_ - Esthero

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The day was turning to night when Sybil finally returned home. It was earlier than it had been the past few days, and she was hopeful that Tom would still be waiting for her in the dining room with dinner, as he had promised.

She stopped upstairs first, checking on Maddie who was with Edith for the afternoon. Although such a thing was stressful, Tom and her were both eternally grateful for the help of the rest of the family in caring for their child. Sybil meant what she said almost a year ago about her child not ever being nannied. It just wasn't a sensible practice, and Sybil and Tom both really hated the word.

When Sybil received mail from the Branson family last month there was a note inside from Bridget. The girls did write sometimes, mostly talking about being mothers and the new life Bridget had found for herself in a little town outside of Liverpool. This particular note had Bridget rather teasingly asking Sybil if her and Tom were going to get a governess for little Madeleine. Sybil wrote back a nice reply ensuring the Irish girl that they most certainly would not.

After finding that Edith was all too happy watching her niece pull herself up onto her feet only to fall back down onto her bum again, Sybil left them. Edith shooed her out of the room, insisting that Sybil go have a meal with her husband for the first time this week. Sybil eventually gave in, but only after pressing a kiss to Maddie's forehead both out of love and to check her temperature. The child had been fighting a cold all week and while she looked bubbly now, Sybil was sure that she and Tom would be up late with the child the way they were the night before.

Her temperature seemed to be down though and Sybil exhaled knowing that the cold must be subsiding. She wanted to go change before dinner with Tom, but knew that she was already late. Besides, she was wearing a white headscarf, and she knew this was his favorite part of her old nurse's uniform.

Outside of the dining room, Sybil stopped to listen. Slowly, Tom was losing his cool, giving into this new man he was as it became harder to be the boy that used to work here, just like Edna.

"Edna, please," Tom begged, wanting to just shush the girl and send her back downstairs. He hadn't noticed but the napkin he held in his hand was fisted into a ball, highlighted when he threw his arm down to the table for emphasis.

It was then that Sybil entered, needing no more proof that this entire thing was getting increasingly out of hand.

"Hello milady," Edna managed, then went for the door.

Sybil was standing behind Tom's chair now, with one arm resting on her hip to create the sharpest angle jutting out from Sybil's otherwise soft frame. "Edna why is it that you have so much to say to my husband and so little to say to me? Surely it's not because I live here because Tom lives here too..." Sybil innocently cocked her head to the side, waiting for an answer she didn't care to hear. She was sweet and kind and caring, and all of those other things that people so often said about her, especially in this house, but she was protective too, and she hated that her husband was made to feel so uncomfortable in their temporary home.

Edna went to walk away but was stopped by Sybil's words. "Now, Edna! I am speaking to you. And let it be known that I have never spoken to another person this way, and I would never dream of raising my voice to any of the other housemaids but this is just getting ridiculous. You," Sybil emphasized, "are being ridiculous!"

Edna stopped and turned back to the woman. They were about the same height, but Sybil was far prettier, even in temperament. Tom stood between them, feeling cowardly, and knowing now that it shouldn't be Sybil to deal with this. But he allowed it nonetheless, and watched as Sybil grew more and more territorial. He had missed her discussion with Larry Grey on the night when he was drugged, and now, Tom was getting a glimpse of all of that and couldn't find it in himself to look away.

"You can fudge the lines but I can't?"

"What are you on about? You have absolutely no idea what you are talking about and how dare you," Sybil roared, "act as if you do. You were not there. And that is nobody's business but mine and my husband's…"

"Nevermind, ma'am."

Sybil stepped into the girl. She was a girl too. In age, they were probably not much different but Edna had a childlike naivete that Sybil remembered losing right after her coming out. Then again, Sybil had always been mature and she never understood the way other girls acted, especially around boys.

"Edna, I need you to listen to me, alright? I am sorry you are unhappy with your life and if this place makes you unhappy well that would be something you and I have in common. If you would like a reference out of here then please tell Mrs. Hughes. She would be more than willing to write one for you. I am sure of it."

"Lady Sybil, you must have misunderstood..."

Sybil remained strong. Her hand, resting on the top of Tom's chair had slid down to caress her husband's shoulder, kneading his broad build. "I have not misunderstood a thing!" She screeched.

It was then that Sybil saw Edith carrying Maddie at the door. Behind her was Mrs. Hughes, and a very unamused Carson. She continued though, allowing her own frustrations to propel her words forward. At the same time, they all needed to hear what she had to say. "I have watched you for gawk at my husband for the past three months as if he is available goods. Yet for someone that seems to be so infatuated you insult him by constantly questioning his former life. We are not demigods. We do not change overnight. The life he had then may be different but it's still the life he has now. And now it is my life as well. So for you to treat my husband like this is to treat me like this. This is our life," she emphasized.

"Ma'am, I-"

"Let me give you this piece of advice: It does not matter where you come from in life, it matters where you go. And if one day you wake up and find yourself pleased and happy with the outcome you say thank you and then keep your mouth shut. It does not bode well to always be asking why."

"But-" Edna turned to the door, looking for a source of support. Everyone seemed to be standing on Sybil's side, even in their position at the door.

"I am done here, Edna. I was up all night nursing a sick child and I spent all day doing the same at work. You may think I think I am better than you or even my own husband but I know where I stand in this world and right now I'd just like to share a meal with my family in peace. Good day."

Sybil's face softened as she sat down, immediately grabbing her napkin from its place at the top of her plate Edna walked quickly out of the room, past Carson and Mrs. Hughes, and past Edith and Maddie who were now entering.

"Sybil, was all of that true?" Edith asked. Tom reached for Maddie and Edith gave her up before joining her sister and her brother-in-law at the long oak table. Sybil had mentioned Edna's odd behavior to Edith when they went into Ripon a week or two ago, but Edith had no idea it was this bad. And it must have been this bad, because as Sybil even said, she was never one to talk to someone like that.

"Maybe we should be asking Mr. Branson," Carson began. Mrs. Hughes had gone off downstairs to find the girl. She would no doubt reinforce everything Sybil had said. The Crawley were a kind family, especially in their treatment of the help. It made Sybil's words all the more necessary, but Carson wondered why they weren't coming from Tom.

"Because this put me in a really difficult position, Mr. Carson. I'm sorry but you need to understand that I used to work in this house. I know how it is."

"You were never naive and stupid the way she was," Sybil commented, cutting into her chicken breast. As far as she was concerned, this all was over and done with. But as she looked up, bringing her fork to her lips, she saw that Tom was more bothered by this than he had originally let on to be. It made her swallow quickly, and then reach out for him across the table. "Tom?"

"Well you know we don't tolerate intimidation like that, even amongst the downstairs staff," Mr. Carson began. "Mrs. Hughes will take care of her."

"You know," Edith began. Her words were sure, and just like Tom, she was suddenly unsure if it was her place to have such a thought, much less reveal it in front of her family and butler. "If this is about you and Sybil, there is no comparison. None that I see. Yes, you happened to work here and Sybil happened to live here but that's where the similarities end. You two went on for nearly six years without anyone in this house being any wiser. I mean, I know Mary knew, but that wasn't until four, almost five years in. You two were different and I'm sure Sybil has told you that."

Sybil didn't look away from Tom. "I have," she whispered over to her sister. Her hand had found Tom's atop the table and she played with his fingers, running a soothing hand over the top of them as they flat against the smooth surface of the wood.

"We were different, but that's not for any of you to know. And you've all been very good and accommodating and for Sybil and Madeleine's sake, I am very grateful, but you have to know this is all so foreign to me. I can only play along for so long." He sighed. "Back in Dublin I would have had no problem telling her exactly where to go, but here, I can't be that man. I'm like stuck in between being upstairs and downstairs and I am sorry but none of you will ever understand that."

"Mr. Branson, if we have made you-"

"No Carson, it's fine. It's done now."

"Right. Can I get you and Lady Sybil anything? Or Miss Madeleine."

Sybil brightened. "Can you send someone up with her porridge please? And maybe some apple slices as well?"

"Of course, milady."

Carson disappeared and Edith soon followed, leaving Tom and Sybil alone in the dining room with Madeleine.

"I know you're mad," Sybil began, breaking the silence and with it, the tension between her and her husband. She reached out to touch Tom, but he turned away, showing her just how mad he was. "What is wrong, Tom?"

"I told you not to say anything. I told you-"

"You did not!" Sybil said in reply. "I told you that if you didn't handle this then I would and you didn't protest!"

"I didn't want to start an argument-"

"Too late," Sybil spat.

"You practically castrated me in front of them."

Sybil could only let out a laugh. She leaned forward. "Are you kidding me?"

"No, I'm not, Syb! They already think I'm a lesser man for taking you away, then they think I'm a lesser man because I can't pay for you to go to your sister's wedding, then they think me a lesser man for knocking you up and leaving you in Ireland…"

"That was almost a year ago, Tom…"

"And they don't forget! They never will! I will always be the chauffeur to them, don't you see that?" He softened when he saw how much this was hurting her. Instinctively, he reached out to stroke her hands, paying special attention to the ring she wore so proudly on her left hand. "I'm sorry, love. It's just...this is another thing for them to throw in my face."

"Tom, they didn't see it like that. And I didn't speak up to castrate you. Do you think I want some woman flirting with my husband?"

"No, but you're also better than to be threatened by someone I clearly have no interest in. What is this, Syb? We don't get jealous. There's no reason, love…"

"You think I'm jealous?" Sybil stood up and went to walk away from the table but stopped herself, taking one large step back so she was practically on top of him. She stood, quite firmly, with each hand flat on the table. Their voices were still calm but their body language spoke volumes on how loud they wished all of this could be. "I am not jealous, Tom! I know you love me and I love you too. Don't you get that? That's why I stood up for you. Because you are my best friend and my husband and most importantly, my equal! I do not like people making you feel inferior so if I ever thought my own actions would do that, maybe I'd think twice, but I will not apologize for saying what I said. She was out of line. You are a brilliant, kind, and handsome man. I could go on and on about all of the things I love about you. I do not need some girl working in this house to make you forget all of that. You have this life because it is what God has given us. Whether that be forever or for the next few months, we need to accept it, alright?"

She sat down next to him and reached out to hold his hand in her lap. He accepted, still holding their daughter on his knee with his other hand. "And if we accept it, then the rest of this house needs to as well. I will not have our love and the hard work you've put into this house to keep our family happy belittled on account of some naive child!"

There was silence, and then Tom spoke up. "She's older than you, I believe."

Sybil smirked. "Well she behaves like a child!" she responded, now causing them both to laugh. They separated as the electricity between them died off. Tom continued to bounce a now animated Madeleine on his knee. She pulled herself up with the help of Tom's vest and was jumping on his lap now, sending both Tom and Sybil into a fit of laughter.

"She's going to be athletic," Sybil commented, reaching out to caress her daughter's back. "She loves to move."

"All babies love to move, darling."

Sybil rolled her eyes at her husband. "But she's standing on her own and she's beginning to walk. You saw her last night…"

"I did," Tom managed, still holding a strong grip onto their daughter. "Was I too harsh with Carson? I don't want him to think…"

Sybil softened. She got up and stood behind Tom, wrapping her arms immediately around his neck to rest lazily on the lapels of his jacket. He leaned back into her, and for a moment they forgot where they were. "I've let this place ruin you. You've become a part of it and that's not fair."

"Sybil…"

"No, it's true. It's eating you alive, I can see it. I'm just sorry I didn't notice sooner, what with work and all-"

"Please don't be sorry, my darling. I can manage."

"But you shouldn't have to."

Tom sighed and turned his chair to face her. He placed Maddie down on the carpet, and immediately she was under the table, using the low hanging tablecloth as her own fortress to hide within.

"Sybil, we're here because of what I did. And your father and mother and everyone have been so good to us. And I'm sure it's because of you and the baby, but I'll take it because I like not having to worry about my girls," he said simply.

Sybil pouted of her lips and he nipped at them, tasting her and everything she had wanted to say in return. The pull away was slow, and both Sybil and Tom rested their foreheads against one another, needing so much more contact than this room would ever give them. "I'm ready to go back, Syb. And the time is soon. We're so close to independence."

She caressed his cheek with a bended hand, letting her knuckles run passes over the stubble beginning to form near his chin. "I know, love, I know."

She kissed away his tears and they remained like this, curled into one another as their daughter played underfoot. Sybil and Tom talked about work, and when that settled down, about the night they spent a few months ago, laying in bed naked with one another pretending they were back in Dublin. Soon, he promised her with a kiss to her hand, they wouldn't have to pretend anymore.

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Seriously can't thank you guys enough for reading my story! It's still so surreal to me the amount of feedback this has gotten.

x. Elle


	30. Babe, I'm Gonna Leave You

**A/N: **Everyone can thank the outdated TextEdit for finally creating a file that was compatible for me to upload. A giant panic attack later, and this was allowed? I don't know. All I know is I'm tired and clearly need a life if my inability to update my fanfic was the greatest stress of my day. I hope you all enjoy this. I think I spent more time trying to get it to upload than I did actually writing it. Ayah.

**Song: **_Babe I'm Gonna Leave You - Led Zeppelin_

* * *

"There's something you may want to see in there, Tom," Robert said, handing his paper down to his son-in-law.

Tom looked up, unsure of what to make of such a comment. Robert had been fair lately, and even pleasant when it came to the men's small talk over the morning meal. But this was different, shown by both Matthew and Robert waiting for Tom to pick up the paper and read it.

His own newspaper was up in the bedroom where he had left it. He and Sybil liked to read it in bed and requested that it was delivered with their wake up call each morning. This morning, however, Tom was out of bed early to deal with a teething Madeleine. He let Sybil sleep as he rocked the child back to sleep and then laid her in bed next to her mother so he could watch both of them sleep. It was like this lately, and just as he always swore to Sybil, he really didn't mind. In fact, he even found himself wondering if these were the moments he'd miss when Maddie was older and life got truly crazy.

Mary came down into the dining room with Edith trailing behind. The atmosphere between the two eldest Crawley girls had softened considerably since Mary had announced her pregnancy just a week ago. The two girls sat down, and were quickly acclimated to the tension at the table as Tom read.

He couldn't believe his eyes. "So they've accepted it then? It's official?"

Robert smiled, placing his mug back down on the table. "It appears that way."

"Oh god," Tom managed, closing the paper to stand. He looked around the room and covered his mouth, not wanting all of the irrational things he was thinking to escape without his own warranty.

He started for the door but was stopped when he heard Sybil bounding down the hall, her black heels clicking on the hardwood floor as she ran for the dining room. "Tom!" He heard her call out. "Tom! Look!" She ran into the dining room with their Irish newspaper in hand. "Tom! It's happened!" She beamed, showing him the headline. "Did you know?"

He didn't respond and instead picked her up, spinning her around. She was wearing pants today and a simple cotton blouse. They kissed, briefly, not caring if anyone saw. And they did, also seeing how such an idea, Ireland as a free state, delighted these two so much.

Sybil let out an exuberant laugh, holding her stomach as if the happiness inside of her was paining her the more she kept it in. "When can we leave?"

"I'll go as soon as I can."

"You? What about me?"

Tom softened, his glance dropping from her eyes to the floor. "Sybil, you can't-"

Sybil's eyes furrowed and she looked out the window then back to her husband. "What are you saying? What? Will you go and leave me here?"

"Sybil it is not like that! Yes, I will go back and I will go soon. Very soon, if I can get a ticket. But I'm going back to sort out everything we left behind. I'm going back to make sure my family is okay and that the flat is fine and-"

"What about your family here? What about me and Madeleine and-?"

"Sybil," he tried, reaching out to touch her. She stepped back and bit at her lip, finding herself with no other options. She always swore to herself that she'd make the choices and direct her own life, but after meeting Tom and falling in love, it was made all too clear that life wasn't always her decision to make.

Finally, Sybil moved into him. Her arms were crossed over her chest now, and although her family couldn't see it, Tom could tell she was crying. "Tom, please don't do this again…" she shook her head, allowing one, then another tear to fall slowly down her cheek. She wiped it away, tossing her hand away as if to dismiss such an emotion.

"No, Sybil, I will not be made to feel sorry for this," Tom raised his voice and stood his ground. "It's a free state. That doesn't mean it's safe. It's a disaster over there. I will not have you and Madeleine be put in danger like that."

_And this new baby_, Sybil thought, biting down hard on her lip. She was going to tell him. That was what her trip down here was originally about. Now, they were so far past that, and even a child couldn't mollify the words they were spitting back and forth to one another.

"I'm sorry but the answer is no."

"You are not my owner, Tom Branson!" Sybil yelled out, her hands in tiny little fists at her side. She stood tall and steady, but she was the same girl he had fallen in love with all those years ago and loved so ardently now. He wanted to pull her in and kiss her hairline and whisper words that only she could understand but Tom knew she would never accept such an offer.

"No I most certainly am not but I'm sure your father will agree with me…"

"Sybil," Robert began, standing up from the table to walk closer to where his daughter and son-in-law stood. "Tom is right. I can't forbid you to go anywhere but if it is as bad as he says and as bad as I have heard, I would really hope you wouldn't go. Maybe take the time before the Holiday to let Tom sort everything out."

"You are infuriating! You both are absolutely infuriating men! Both my husband and father telling me what to do? HA!" Sybil managed, pushing past them.

"Sybil!" Tom called after his wife. "I am protecting you, love! The fight is not over! We can't-"

It was then that she finally turned back to him. She was at the door now, ready to take off in a dead sprint. "No, but this one is. If you will not let me go then I won't go but I swear to god Tom if-" She stopped, choking back a sob. She walked to him again, pushing at his chest so that he was sent stumbling backward. "What about you? What if something happens to you?"

Tom stepped into his wife and immediately swiped at her tears with both of his thumbs. She pushed at him again. She fought and fought before finally giving in, allowing his body to bring her in, as his mouth sung soothing words into her hair.

Sybil separated from him, just long enough for her red eyes to catch on his. "I know you need to go back and I get why you don't want me to go but that is my home too. And you are my husband," she reminded as another tear strolled down her cheek, out of his grasp. "I need you to be safe too."

Tom grasped at the back of her neck and pulled her in so that he could kiss her forehead. They lingered for a bit too long and when they finally detached from one another, Tom walked away and Sybil followed.

"You're going to let him go?" Mary asked.

"He's not my child," Robert said in response.

A silence settled over the dining room, telling all that this conversation was finished. Somewhere upstairs, Sybil and Tom hated that the rest of the family was there to witness it in the first place.

Just as they were about to move on, Robert set down his paper, and stood up. "But no, if it were up to me, he wouldn't be going back either."

Without another word, he left the room.

~!~

"How long are you going to be gone?"

"Just a week, love."

Tom was packing his suitcase now, with Sybil sitting on the edge of their bed with her hands underneath her while her feet swayed down toward the ground. "And you promise you won't stay longer?"

Tom stopped his movements and went to stand before his wife. "I promise. I just need to go and make sure all is cleared. This will help us to decide when we want to move back."

"A year maybe?"

Tom nodded. "We'll see."

"And you promise to call as soon as you get there? Well, as soon as you get to your mother's. I don't want to be worrying about you being arrested or...just please call me," she finished.

He was back at the armoire now, pulling his favorite suit jacket from behind one of Sybil's dresses. He left the hanger on and folded that within the suitcase, putting it on top of trousers and a jumper Sybil had insisted he bring. "Love, I'm going to be fine."

Sybil ignored him though. Her eyes had been watching him, darting back and forth from the armoire to where his suitcase remained open on the edge of the bed. She stood up beside him, quickly doing her best to rearrange the inside of his bag. He had done it all wrong, and she wanted to make sure that even if she wasn't with him, that he was well taken care of until he arrived at his mother's.

"Sybil, darling, would you calm down please? We have plenty of time before my train leaves."

"Maddie and I are going to ride with you to the station. I want to see you off."

Tom collapsed back against the bed. "Okay." Then he began to laugh and Sybil, unamused by all of this, cocked her eyebrow as if immediately asking for an explanation, one he was all too willing to provide her with. "This is just odd, s'all. The last time I went back to Dublin, you were with me, and we were about to have Madeleine and now...I guess I just can't believe that the life I used to have has led me here."

Sybil must have been content with the state of Tom's suitcase, because she clicked the worn leather locks and then picked it up and placed it by the door, next to where his briefcase full of tenant paperwork sat. Then, she sat down on the bed, taking place of the baggage Tom would be bringing to Dublin with him. She curled into him, immediately resting her head on his shoulder. He was right, they did have time before his train left, but not time in the way that either of them craved. It seemed they were always waiting for something, and then when it finally happened, they found themselves wondering how many ways it could be done again.

"I love you," she whispered after placing a lingering kiss to her husband's neck.

He didn't respond with words but instead kissed her, bringing her lips into his with a force she hadn't felt in quite some time. It was all he wanted to say but was unable to, out of fear that such truths would cause him to cry. Tom had always seen himself much in the way the rest of the world did; brave and strong willed. Sybil changed him though, making him feel things he would have never imagined when he first accepted the job at Downton. Now, he found himself feeling too much, things that broke his heart and shattered his thoughts, leaving nothing but time and space for her to repair them.

"It's only a week," he reminded.

"I know." Sybil sighed, wrapping her arms around his shoulders to bring him closer to her. She reveled in these last few moments, where she could hold him like this without any questions asked. "Make sure you tell your mother and Katherine and everyone else how much I miss them."

"Of course."

"And I put the pictures of Maddie-"

"In the bottom of my briefcase. I know," he said, finishing her sentence. "Thank you," he added, hoping she wasn't finding him to be as agitated as he was. He was sick of being here, only because he had just learned to accept that he would be without her for a week. "You'll be back soon."

"I know."

"I'm going to look at cottages while I'm there. And talk to a few newspapers about getting me another job. It might be a year, but I want to be prepared."

"Good," Sybil whispered, her voice as hoarse as ever.

"I'm not abandoning you. Please don't think that."

Sybil's eyes shot up to her husbands. It was blue on blue, and suddenly such a familiar look made her want to cry. "Never," she managed, before returning her eyes to their position staring at the way Tom held her hands in his lap.

"This isn't like before," he began. "It's just not safe."

"You have to be safe," she whispered. "God, if I ever lost you, Tom."

"But you won't. I'm right here and I'm not going anywhere." Quickly, he realized what he said and picked up her knuckles to kiss at her wedding ring, so simple and yet so heavy, resting on her finger. He knew that they were both thinking back to that night so many months ago when he had left her behind in Dublin, feeling alone and scared and very much pregnant. Now, as he was about to venture back to the same place that meant so much to them, he wondered if she felt the same way he did, and if she'd resent him leaving her behind at Downton: the place she used to call home.

"We should go," she said, being sensible, but not ever believing her own words. She stood, and he joined her, both of them grabbing their coats from the rack by the door. As she buttoned her light jacket and placed her hat atop her head, she stared out at their bed. She thought of sleeping alone tonight and how sleep would undoubtedly run from her as she tossed and turned and thought of him so far away. Deciding not to let her mind linger too much, she followed Tom out, not even bothering to shut the door to the room she was sure she'd return too soon.

At the end of the hall they stopped in the nursery. On the floor by the window, Mary and Matthew sat with Maddie, watching the child walk back and forth with the help of the windowsill. They smiled at Tom and wished him the best and then watched as the young family disappeared out the door.

When they were gone, Matthew wrapped an arm around Mary and brought her close into him. He kissed her temple and she smiled as she felt his lips leave her skin. They had watched Sybil and Tom prove themselves to this house and found that they were quite protective of the young couple. They knew what it was like to fight to keep something so pure alive and they wondered how they got through it all, all the while knowing that they would get through this stage in their lives too, and end up just the way they had always been: stronger and more beautiful than they were before. A very small part of them were jealous of the resilience shared between Tom and Sybil. It was something Mary and Matthew sought, but could never quite capture in the way they had.

On the ride to the station, Tom did his best to keep Sybil from thinking all of the things he was sure were fluttering around in her mind. In a solid attempt, he asked he about when she'd be working this week, and then, with a cheeky smile, he asked her what she'd do to pass the time without him. This earned him a swat to the shoulder and the two laughed, allowing their minds to wander at such a prospect.

They didn't allow silence to overtake them. Every moment was spent filled with words and kisses they were sure they'd never get back. Sybil wanted to cry but instead found herself snuggling closer into Tom so he had a solid grip on both her and their daughter. Every so often he'd kiss her hairline and tell her how much he loved her and she'd smile because there was no other action that could express what she was feeling and she feared such attempts would just ruin all of this.

When it came time for him to depart, they stood staring at one another while the train hummed loudly next to them. The boarding whistle sounded, pulling Tom out of the conversation he was having with Madeleine. Unable to articulate a proper goodbye, both he and Sybil hugged, and then passed a promise in the form of a chaste kiss from lip to lip.

Sybil watched him get on the train, and she picked up Maddie's hand causing the little girl to wave at her father and speak a simple "Da-da bye bye!"

She listened to her daughter laugh as the train pulled away, and Sybil wanted to join her. She couldn't shake the feeling she had though, as if sending Tom back to Dublin was like sending a man off to war. The thought brought back memories that both soothed and shook her to her core. It wasn't until Sybil was back in the car that she let the tears fall, thankful that Maddie was fast asleep by then, and not awake to see her mother's weakness. Sybil knew that a child couldn't even decipher such an emotion and attach it to people and places. She was also sure Maddie was unaware that her own father had just gotten on a train to return to a place they called home, a place that Sybil and Tom hoped Madeleine and all of their other children would soon call home as well. _It was just a week_, she thought.

* * *

Reading this over I'm not too sure how I feel about it. Maybe you all could tell me what you thought? (See what I did there?)

x. Elle


	31. Where You Are

**A/N: **I'm posting this mostly for **dustedoffanoldie**! Because she asked, oh so nicely. Also, I've had this written for a couple of weeks now, and it ironically fits a prompt on across-the-rubicon. Loosely, but the idea is there.

ALSO, I love how all I have to do is put a character's life in peril and suddenly my reviews and page hits skyrocket. You all may hate Fellowes but you play into his games oh so nicely. I AM SO DISAPPOINTED IN ALL OF YOU.

Just kidding. Kind of.

Enjoy?

**Song: **_Where You Are_ - Gavin DeGraw

* * *

Dinner had ended nearly an hour ago, and while everyone upstairs went to the drawing room for a glass of brandy or a cup of tea, Sybil found herself downstairs, pacing back and forth in the hallway that separated the kitchen from the servant's lounge. She had put Madeleine to bed before dinner, not having enough energy to fight the child and keep her on schedule when it was clear all she wanted to do was sleep. Sybil was sure this would have them both up at four, but with Tom gone, she wasn't sleeping much lately, and Sybil was positive she wouldn't mind the company when she spent the early morning hours lost in a book he had left behind.

Wanting to pass the time, Sybil asked the kitchenmaids if they wanted any help clearing the meal. Each girl, already moving onto making pastries for next morning's breakfast assured her that they did not, and then proceeded to thank her for such an offer. When all of them went to the back pantry to retrieve flour and sugar and shortening, they'd laugh, finding themselves utterly amused by this young girl. She was different from the rest of them and they wondered how she had escaped it all and become the woman she now was while Mary and Edith were still very much the women they were.

They were fascinated though, by Sybil's clear ignorance to the way a kitchen was meant to be run, while at the same time finding it notable that she was able to hold her daughter on her hip while warming a bottle for the same child and holding a conversation with Mrs. Patmore.

They may have not understood it, but they all found themselves respecting this girl for her eagerness

"Are you sure I can't get you anything, Lady Sybil?"

Sybil released the bite she had on her bottom lip and looked up to Thomas. He was carrying an empty tray of cups which Sybil assumed meant that everyone upstairs was headed to bed now. She dropped her hands from her hips and stopped pacing, long enough to provide the footman with a smile and a response. "Actually, could I have a warm glass of milk?"

Thomas smiled. "Of course, milady. Would you like me to send it up to your room?"

"Oh, no," Sybil replied. "I'm waiting for a call from Tom so I'll be down here for a bit. But thank you."

As Thomas walked away, Sybil returned to pacing. The cuticles around her nails were nearly invisible now, and she wondered what in God's name was taking Tom so long. Another pang of worry and guilt shot through her abdomen, replacing the constant nausea she had been experiencing there lately.

Even though he had promised, it wasn't Tom who called Sybil when he arrived. Katherine made the call, and although Sybil was glad to hear he had returned safely, she much would have preferred to hear such an affirmation coming in the form of her husband's voice. Quickly, such a thought disappeared, and Katherine quickly dominated the conversation with discussion on her upcoming wedding. She closed the conversation wishing that Sybil and Tom could attend, to which Sybil agreed and then hung up.

Thomas returned to Sybil, presenting her a warm mug of milk on a silver platter. He leaned down to hand it to the girl, and she smiled, graciously accepting it. Thomas assured her it was no problem, and then let her be as he disappeared back upstairs.

Sybil was sitting, sipping at her glass, watching as the hurried state of the downstairs turned into a more calm hustle. The pots and pans from dinner were all put away, and Sybil smelled as the dough for the next morning's meal began to rise in the kitchen. Daisy walked past her with a kettle of tea to bring to the sitting room for the rest of the servants and for a reason Sybil was unaware of, she wanted to join them. The longer Tom was gone, the more she found herself missing Dublin and the simple life they had there.

Not wanting to be obvious, but unable to keep from such a comforting task, Sybil rubbed at her stomach, and then found herself hoping Maddie was fast asleep and dreaming. She envied the young girl's innocence and the way she no doubt was unaware that her father was miles away securing a new life for her.

When the phone finally rang, Sybil sprang up. She pushed the door shut the door behind her, but left it slightly ajar, knowing this space was not hers to occupy indefinitely. She heard the girls in the kitchen laugh at her haste, but she thought nothing of them as she put down her half full glass of milk and answered the phone. "Hello?"

"Hi," Tom managed, his voice harsh and slicked with a glass of whiskey. It comforted Sybil and warmed her the way the alcohol did for him.

"Hi," Sybil breathed out. She could have sworn it was for the first time since Tom had left her three days ago. "I miss you…"

"God, I miss you, Syb. What have you been up to?"

Sybil tried to smile, but she knew her face was pale and emotionless. "Really, not much. You picked a good week to go away, I guess. I haven't worked once."

Tom tried to laugh for the both of them. "This would happen."

"I know," she whispered.

"Everything's okay though? How's Mads?"

Sybil smiled at hearing the nickname Tom had begun to give their daughter. Originally she fought it, especially after she considered what everyone else would say when they heard it, but now, it comforted her, and made her need him all the more. "She's good. She was asking for you."

"Was she really?"

"No," Sybil dismissed with a laugh. "I think she knows something's up though. She seems to be getting awfully bored with me. She wants her Papa home." Sybil inhaled sharply. "And I can't really blame her."

"It's only a few more days, love. How are you though? You okay? You sound-"

"I'm pregnant, Tom."

There was silence on the receiver. Then tom breathed out, his voice turning into a slow laugh. "What?"

"I'm pregnant, Tom. I knew before you left but I-"

He heard the dejection in her voice and regretted the fact that he didn't have the ability to pull her in and kiss her temple. She wore her sadness like a crown, so high on her head, for all to see. Unlike most girls, she didn't see it as a vulnerability and Tom knew better than to ever force her to resort to such a practice.

"Oh, Syb," he said, now wanting to cry himself. "It's okay, love. Really. I know now."

"Are you happy? I mean, can we even afford another baby right now? And with Ireland…"

"Of course we can. And I am so happy, my darling. You have to believe me. God, Sybil, I wish I was there right now, with you," he whispered. She could picture him now, sitting on a stool at his mother's house in front of the telephone they had installed shortly after they departed. He was most likely touching his mouth, covering it with an anxious hand then bringing that same hand down to rest on his neck.

On the other end, Sybil heard a voice, presumably Tom's mother's voice, asking what was going on.

"Syb's pregnant again," Tom responded, his voice already sounding proud.

Praises of "comhghairdeas!" and "maith an bhean!" were heard over the telephone, and the last bit had Sybil giggling into her palm.

"Did she just?"

"I promise she's being nice…"

Sybil continued to giggle. "Well tell her I said 'go raibh mile maith agaibh'."

Tom could practically hear his wife smiling over the line. "She says your gaeilge is getting quite good."

"Did you tell her I make you speak it even though you hate it? Did you tell her I make you sing to Madeleine all those lullabies we both know you know?" Sybil teased.

"I will," Tom whispered. "Have I told you how much I've wanted you lately?

"Tom Branson that is naughty!" Sybil said, but with a rather wide close-lipped smile playing across her face. "Your family is right there!"

Tom shook his head. "They're back in the living room now, love. C'mon, I know you think the same. I know how you hate sleeping alone. You told me."

"I'm not saying those things over the telephone, Tom," Sybil said flatly, straightening up in the chair she was hugging the back of. "I don't know how these things work. What if someone hears?"

"What if I hear?" Tom teased, knowing this was driving Sybil mad now. She did want to reciprocate what he had just said, but she couldn't possibly do it over the phone, even if he was the only one listening. He deserved to be told, in person, and then showed, just how much she was missing him. Sybil was planning such things for the night he returned, and she hated for them to be spoiled now, over this thin electrical wire.

"Tom Branson, no!" Sybil yelped, in the way that only unsure girls can manage. "I am not saying anything."

"Not even how you miss me kissing the back of your neck after we make love or how you miss feeling me spill-"

"Tom Branson, don't you dare finish that sentence!"

"-my seed inside of you…"

"I'm hanging up."

"Do it," he challenged. Tom smiled, feeling proud and powerful that no matter how much she was provoked, she would never hang up on him. She wanted to hear these things just as much as she wanted to give them all back to him in the form of words and phrases and acts that would normally make her blush.

Sybil had gotten adventurous, something provoked by Tom, but wanted all the more for personal reasons. Like any girl, she had thoughts, thoughts she was of course told to suppress and be ashamed of. But she remembered that night in Liverpool before her and Tom departed for Ireland when he told her not to be ashamed and to just follow her heart. He was a constant in her life now, and every time she was with him, she was reminded that it was okay to feel everything he was conjuring up in her.

Without thinking, Sybil leaned forward in her chair and kicked at the door with the heel of her foot. It slammed into the frame on the wall, reverberating through the line to tickle Tom's ears. He beamed. "Did you just?" He paused. "You did! You shut the door!"

"Tom Branson, I did nothing of the sort," she sighed, doing her best to cause the tingling in her abdomen to subside. "The wind-"

"The wind, my arse. C'mon Syb. You clearly want privacy. Might as well just tell me everything you've thought since I left."

"You're being cocky, Tom, and I don't appreciate it."

"No," he corrected for her. "You love when I get bigheaded. What you hate is when I'm right. And when I'm impatient. So I will give you that…" he said, his voice trailing off.

He waited for her to fill the silence, but she said nothing. They were like this sometimes, usually close at night after they had laid Maddie down. Their banter had always been sharp and playful but it was taken to even better heights when the two were feeling up to it. Part of them knew, or at least Tom figured, it was because they had missed so many of their younger years together.

There were words and sentiment, both sincere and inappropriate that went left unsaid between the two of them. They had revealed much since their marriage, but even all of the feelings and thoughts Sybil had at eighteen could not be conveyed in their entirety now. Besides, she would tell herself, they had advanced greatly since then.

"Fine," Tom breathed out. "You know, the girls here thought you had left me when I returned without you. They were staring in church…"

"Were they?" Sybil played along.

"They were."

"I went out to see Keegan the other day."

Tom let out a loud guffaw. "Oh, did you?" He continued to laugh at the thought of Sybil going out to the garage now. Suddenly that thought was ridiculous. "How was that?" he teased.

"Okay, you know what, I am really hanging up this time. You are playing games…"

"Sybil, love, calm down, alright?"

"You know that's not fair, Tom. You know I don't like to acknowledge all of the irish girls and the way they want you…"

"Then we won't acknowledge it."

"You just said-"

"I didn't notice anyone staring," he stated plainly for her to hear. "I'm just trying to have some fun. I'll stop."

"I didn't go out to see Keegan. That would just be silly!"

"I know," Tom said, still laughing at the idea. "You're a really shoddy liar, m'love."

"I mean, that would just be cruel and very, very inappropriate," she said, almost as if she was the one that needed to remind him. "And why would I, really?"

"Syb, it was a joke. I got it."

"Okay."

"Why are you so nervous love?"

"I haven't talked much since you left."

"They've got you caged, have they?"

"No," she said, shaking off such an image with a laugh. "It's just been weird. Is this what it was like when you were here alone?"

"Well it was worse because your family hated me then, and," he said loudly, talking over the words he knew she was about to speak, "rightfully so."

"Well you come home the day after next." She sighed, gathering all the courage she could muster. Already she could feel a brush creeping up her cheeks. "And I do miss you laying next to me at night."

"Just laying?"

"No, of course not. More," she said, her words trying just as hard as she was to get through all of this. She wanted her husband and her best friend, but what she wanted more was to not have to tell him things over the telephone line. She needed him here with her, so that if anything, she could show him just how much he meant to her, especially after a period of absence. "You know what I want, Tom," Sybil gritted through clenched teeth.

Tom sighed. "Two days," he whispered. If she could see him now she'd tell him that he looked like a child with his arm lazily propping up his head, and he'd respond by pulling her down to sit on his lap. Of course she'd giggle, and then he'd tickle her sides and she'd protest, not because she didn't love the feeling of his hands gliding up and down her sides, but because she wanted to stop laughing long enough to taste him and feel him on her lips.

"Two days," she repeated. Sybil looked much like he, with her head propped up on a lazy arm. She was tired, and only acknowledged such a thing now as their conversation was nearing its end. She knew that they could talk forever, about the time he had spent with his family, the arrangements in signing the flat over to Katherine and her fiance, and how everything at the governor's office had gone over.

She'd hear it soon though, and she knew that such things would sound much sweeter when falling from his lips. He'd tell her all of those things and then she'd whisk him upstairs to their room where they'd allow everyone else to think they were unpacking.

"Will you call again before you're home?"

"I don't think so. I have a meeting to go to tomorrow-"

"A meeting?" Sybil croaked out. Her fingers were at her lips now, drawing slow lines on the skin that missed him.

Tom laughed. "A church meeting. They want to rebuild the school."

"Oh. We still have some of Papa's money. Could we-"

"We'll discuss it when I get back."

He wanted to say yes, to accept her offer immediately, if only to let her know how much he loved her giving spirit. Tom heard how tired she was, and because of this, felt that perhaps she was sleeping just as lousily as he had been with an ocean in between them.

"You should go get some sleep, darling."

Sybil shook her head as if he could see her. Then she laughed, remembering how far away he was. "Even if I go up, I won't sleep."

"Maybe you will. If you're that tired. I won't be offended, you know. I promise you that tonight I'm going to try and do the same thing, even if you're not next to me."

"Promise?" She asked, feeling as if he had read her mind. Maybe that was it. Falling asleep without Tom was like admitting such a thing was possible. Of course it was, but she didn't want it to be.

"I love you, Tom."

Tom smiled and breathed out into the received creating a wave of white noise over the line. "I love you too, crazy girl."

Sybil hung up, and quickly composed herself as she stood up and grabbed her mug from where it was sitting, now empty, on the edge of Mrs' Hughes' desk. At the door, she was stationary. She took a deep breath and then opened it, ready to face the world knowing that Tom was still safe in Ireland and would be returning to her soon.

"All set, milady?"

Sybil stopped, standing now at the door to the servants' quarters. "Yes, thank you, Thomas."

"Of course. Can I take your mug, milady?"

Sybil just nodded, handing the young footman back the very cup he had handed her not even ten minutes ago. She pressed a hand to her cheek and giggled, then ran upstairs. Suddenly, everything she had kept from saying to Tom, everything he wanted to hear, flashed in her mind and she was left feeling deviant for having those thoughts.

Once upstairs, she ran quickly to her room and changed into her nightgown. As she buttoned the material along her hemline she stared down at a sleeping Maddie resting soundly in her crib. Sybil kissed her fingertips and then pressed her hand down to the infant's forehead. When she did not stir, Sybil dimmed the light on the wall and walked to her bed in the dark. She allowed the comforter they usually shared to cover her in a way that he normally would. It was warm and safe here, she thought, but she was more than ready to go back to Dublin now.

* * *

What did we think? Fluff is good, right?

_Maith an bhean _means good wife. When you translate it to english it sounds much more sexist than it's meant to. Kind of like, hey, you did your duty as a wife and got knocked up, congrats! Hence why Sybil (and people like my mother) would have an issue with such a form of congratulations. But again, it's not meant to be like that.

Before I get a condescending review telling me Tom's family wouldn't have a telephone, my grandmother grew up pretty poor in Ireland and they had a telephone. I know because it was a running joke in my house because my grandfather who grew up in the same town, apparently did not. So there. I'm sorry for taking away your chance at a snarky review.

x. Elle


	32. Winter

**A/N: **Bit of a time jump here!

**oolong-sama** PM me if you're still reading this! :]

**Song: **_Winter_ - Joshua Radin

* * *

Christmas at Downton was in full swing, as children, three of them now, lit up the house much in the same way the large tree in the hall did. The family had gone off to church that morning, and Tom and Sybil did the same, bringing both Madeleine and their youngest Rian, with them. He was three months old now, and Sybil hated taking him out in the cold, but knew that for things like mass and doctor's visits, it was necessary.

Madeleine wore a sparkly green dress, contrasting with Sybil's deep burgundy gown. Tom told both of his girls that they looked stunning as he watched Sybil get their daughter into her frock earlier that day. When she was done, the little girl spun around, happily accepting her father's praise. "Fank you, Dhadai," she said, climbing onto his lap so she could stare at her baby brother sleeping soundly in his arms.

"Rian so sleepy" Maddie complained, pulling at her younger brother's toes.

"You used to sleep a lot too," Tom commented with a smile at his daughter.

"Noooo," Maddie sing-songed before hopping down to inspect what it was her mother was doing still sitting at the vanity. Her attention span was almost non-existent, a fact that got her into trouble more than Sybil or Tom would ever like to admit.

As Sybil saw her daughter approach she put down her powder and turned to her. She picked the child up and set her gently in her lap. "Why don't you go down with Papa and see what they're making in the kitchen?"

Tom shot Sybil a look and smirked at her, knowing all too well why she didn't want them in the room. Madeleine had taken an instant liking to watching Sybil apply her makeup before dinner each night. It was something she did little of, just a few presses of powder to the cheeks and a little rouge to her lips. Still, Sybil couldn't bare the thought of her child thinking these things were important, even if they did sometimes make Sybil feel a little more secure.

Tom grabbed for Madeleine's hand, and with Rian still in his arms, walked out of the room with his children.

Sybil brushed out her hair once more, doing her best not to relax the finger wave too much. A knock sounded at the door and Mary came in, holding her son, Max. The child was only a month older than Rian, but already he was louder, and larger than his cousin. "Where are Tom and the kids?"

Sybil turned to her sister after clicking the light on her vanity off. "I just had him bring them downstairs so I could continue to get ready. Where's Matthew?"

"Downstairs with Papa and Mama. You know, Sybil, she is a little girl. You used to play in Mama's makeup. It's not going to kill the girl to mimic that. Little girls are supposed to emulate their mothers. It's natural."

Sybil sighed. "Are you the nurse now?" Mary rolled her eyes then returned her attention to her son, still sleeping soundly, swaddled into her chest. "What about you? A girl next, do you think?"

Mary shook her head. "One is alright for us. Actually, it's plenty. I don't know how you and Tom do it…"

Mary was exhausted, but she took to motherhood just as Sybil had imagined she would. They did have a nanny, one that Madeleine often watched take care of her cousin. The elderly woman would smile at the child and then Madeleine would add: "I like dolls too."

But Mary breastfed, something that Sybil had encouraged her to do when she was first found to be pregnant. Initially Mary rejected the idea, but then it caught on, and a week or two ago, Mary even told Sybil that she couldn't imagine doing things differently. With a kiss to the cheek she thanked her sister for helping her through everything.

It was just the two of them now, with Edith living in London with Aunt Rosamund. She wrote to her sisters and the rest of the family every week, doing her best to leave them all little notes that meant something different to each of them. Mary and Sybil would laugh about it, and as they did, they wished Edith the best. She seemed happy, and they hoped that it was true. They always said that she'd find a man, but maybe that was something little girls just say to one another because it's what they're brought up to believe. It became less and less likely the older she got, but she was a wonderful aunt and her journalism career was really taking off, and Sybil told her those things were important too, and on a good day Mary would agree.

Tom and Sybil had gone to see her when they were in London for their anniversary. They stayed at a quiet Bed and Breakfast downtown and then went up to Eaton Square the day after their arrival to take Edith out to lunch. When they returned to Downton days later, they relayed all that Edith had told them about her job, the introduction of women into the news, and how she was acclimating to city life. What they didn't reveal was how Edith had brought a boy with her to lunch, one she swore to Sybil that was just a friend. Tom remembered Sybil lighting up at the prospect, the two laughing on the train ride back to Downton as they thought how if it weren't for Sybil, Edith would never keep such a thing secret, much less have the courage to obtain a relationship without her parent's consent.

"Are you going to talk to them tonight?" Mary asked, standing so that she could rock Max more easily.

With her lips shut tightly, Sybil nodded. "I think so. Do you think that's okay?"

"They're not going to be mad, darling. Just be honest with them."

Sybil was standing next to her sister staring down lovingly at her godson. He may have been bigger than Rian but he was still so small, and Sybil suddenly missed when Madeleine was this size. That time seemed so like lightyears away.

"And what about you?" Sybil asked, doing her best to keep her mind trained on something other than what her and Tom had spent all their time lately discussing. Last night, it was revealed to Mary and Matthew, and they agreed with the younger couple and even went as far as to offer their support. Sybil and Tom smiled, graciously accepting both, though neither were ever doubted.

"What do you mean what about me?"

"Are you going to Manchester or is that just wishful thinking?"

Mary smiled thinking back to the night before, when after Tom and Sybil were done sharing their news, Matthew offered some of his own. He had been asked to take a solicitor position in Manchester. The firm was extremely successful, but their head attorney had just died and asked that they find another solicitor with equal talent to continue running his practice. Matthew was honored that he was offered such a position, but Mary seemed hesitant.

"I don't think so," Mary stated plainly, confirming what Sybil and Tom had thought in bed last night. It would have made Matthew happy, but he'd never sacrifice his life here with Mary to achieve that. He was also growing accustomed to life here at Downton, and with the baby, they practically had their own wing of the house. He couldn't complain really, and it wasn't as if he didn't enjoy his work here.

"Are you ready?" Mary asked, blinking away what Sybil thought was a tear. Perhaps Mary did want Matthew to take the job in Manchester to bring her away from all of this, no matter how much it terrified her.

The two girls walked downstairs, both in the outfits they would remain in the for the rest of the day. Lunchtime was right around the corner but before that they had promised Madeleine she could open some of her gifts.

Though Robert and Cora had wanted to spend a lot on the child, Sybil and Tom quickly asked if they could refrain from doing so. Not wanting to incite another argument with their daughter and her husband about the simple way of life they always mentioned loving, Robert and Cora let it be, and settled on smaller gifts they knew their granddaughter would love. In a way, it was a challenge for them, but Cora spent the last month and even some time before that making sure the gifts they bought Madeleine were practical but still everything the child had asked for.

The entire family filtered into the drawing room, where a smaller christmas tree was set up and beneath it, all of the family's presents. They were kept in here so that when local residents came to view the tree in the foyer, the hall didn't appear "cluttered" as Carson had put it. This tree was much smaller, though still of substantial size and grand enough to accommodate all of the presents beneath it. They had been accumulating, growing especially after the large box of gifts from Martha arrived last week. Still, throughout the past week everyone had spent time wrapping gifts in secret and placing them haphazardly beneath the tree atop all the others.

"Mama, look!" Madeleine screamed as she let go of her mother's hand and ran toward the tree. Sybil looked to Tom who still had Rian pressed softly into his morning jacket. The child was fast asleep and had been most of the morning, using his father's shoulder as his own personal pillow. Tom didn't mind either, for as much as he loved Madeleine, he loved Rian. As father's often are, Tom was proud to finally have a son.

"Madeleine Sophia, please wait until we are all seated, alright love?" Tom called out, watching as Maddie was already busy making piles of gifts for herself away from the shadow of the tree. Sybil laughed, knowing the child could not read but was most likely only claiming gifts that were hers anyway. But she obeyed her father, and stood at attention as he and Sybil entered the space in between the two sofas in the middle of the room.

"Do you want him?" Tom asked, referring to the child just beginning to stir on his chest.

Sybil beamed, carefully taking Rian from his Papa. The child began to cry and Sybil immediately shushed him, pressing his swaddled form into her shoulder. She tapped at his back and when she looked over, Robert had come to sit between her and Mary on the couch.

On the other side of the room, Tom sat on the floor with Madeleine, forcing her to be patient as she unwrapped each gift and then said thank you to the respective giver. Cora sat on the armchair near them, smiling and laughing as her granddaughter showed her all of the gifts Santa had brought her. Tom looked to Sybil, both of them sharing a look that only they knew. Sybil looked away, unable to think of all of that now.

"How's my grandson?"

"Oh," Sybil said, realizing her father was talking to her and not Mary. "He's good," she said, offering the child to her father. He gratefully took the boy, and like Tom, Sybil watched as his hands stretched the entire length of the infant's body.

"How was he at church?" Robert asked, still smiling at the young boy.

"Good," Sybil said, shocked that her father would ask such a thing. It may have not been a conversation about religion, but it might as well have been. "He slept through the entire mass, really. Madeleine was another story…"

"She's like you," Robert said, leaning into his youngest daughter. "Your Mama used to put flowers in your hair and you used to take them out and offer them to the women sitting around us. They were very amused by you though."

Sybil blushed, looking down to where her hands were clasped in her lap. "I guess she does have some of me then," Sybil said, looking back to her father.

"She has a lot of you. But she's Tom's daughter too, that's for sure."

"Well she hasn't tried to free the horses yet," Sybil reminded, causing both her and her father to laugh.

"No she hasn't." Robert sighed. "You've done good, Sybil. Both you and Tom have done very good with these babies."

Sybil brightened. No matter who it was or when the words were spoken, both she and Tom could never get enough of being complimented on their parenting skills. They knew that the love and affection they showed their children was more than enough, but it was nice when the same world that once barely accepted them, acknowledged it too. "Thank you, Papa."

"Should your mother and I expect more grandchildren?"

"Oh," Sybil blushed again, placing a delicate hand to her collarbone. "We want more, yes."

"And you'll have more children and work?"

A question that would have set Sybil off a year or two ago, only made her smile. It was clear her father was trying and she decided to meet him in the middle and attempt to be civil. In all honestly, the conversation they were having was nice, and she didn't wish for it to end. "I think so. We'll make it work. We've come this far," she commented.

Across the room, Madeleine called for her mother, causing Sybil to look to where the girl held a new doll. Actually, she had the doll in a chokehold, but Tom helped her so that she carried it like a baby. The doll had a porcelain face and porcelain limbs and hair that was curly just like Maddie's. It was blonde though, and the dress she wore was blue.

Maddie ran over to her mother and grandfather. "Granpapa!" She said rather excitedly. "Dolly!"

"Who got you that doll, Mad?"

"Granny Marfa," the child sing-songed, already smoothing back her hair. Now she would know what it's like to deal with her mop of curls each morning, Sybil thought with a small chuckle.

Sybil reached down and touched a finger to the doll. "We'll have to write a letter to Granny Martha later, alright?"

But the little girl didn't answer. She was gone already, scurrying back to where Cora was sitting offering the child another gift. She must have relieved her son-in-law of his duties, because he was standing now, walking toward Sybil and her father.

"Tired, are we?" Sybil teased. "Let me go-"

Tom put a hand to her shoulder and kept his wife from standing. "Your mother said she's fine. Really, she insisted I come over here and she swore it's not just because Carson was staring at me sitting on the floor."

"Well Carson must know that this is how it's done in Dublin. Lucy taught me that," Sybil said, remembering the Christmas they had spent in Dublin almost three years ago. Sybil remembered that Lucy had gotten a doll, and though it was not as nice as Madeleine's, it still meant just as much as the girl went around to each aunt and uncle showing it off. But, Sybil remembered, it was she who helped the young girl name it.

Tom pressed a steady hand to his wife's shoulder, using her as support as he remembered all the same things. He specifically remembered the Christmas Eve when he and Sybil had spent the entire night making love and making wishes. They were far too tired after the town social last night to continue that tradition, but he imagined either tonight or the following morning would provide an hour or two for such activities.

"Who is Lucy?" Robert leaned into them to inquire.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Sybil said with a small laugh. "Tom's sister Elizabeth's daughter. She's beautiful. And she has the most infectious little laugh-"

"And she spent all of our time in Dublin with Sybil. She loved her," Tom added, proud of the fact.

Robert smiled. "She's hard not to love."

Again, Sybil smiled. She found herself doing it a lot today and the fact, now that she thought more of it, made her sad.

"I want a drink. Can I get you anything, love?"

Sybil looked up at Tom. "No, thank you though," she said softly, rubbing a soothing hand to his hand on her shoulder.

Madeleine was nearing the end of her gifts. She had received two coloring books, a box of crayons, a new dress, a kite, and a teddy bear. Sybil wanted to roll her eyes and tell them that it was all too much, but most of the gifts were from Mary and Matthew and not her own parents. They had listened and Mary and Matthew chose not to, deciding that while she was the only little girl, and the only grandchild capable of opening gifts, she was allowed to be spoiled. Of course all that was decided and presents were bought before Matthew and Mary discovered their news. Now, they saw the logic in their request, and hoped they didn't start a tantrum Tom and Sybil would only have to mollify later on.

With both Rian and Max asleep, Sybil took her son from her father and with Mary, brought him to where two bassinets sat by the far wall. Both mothers looked down so proudly at their boys before walking away to let them sleep. "Are you okay, darling?"

Sybil only nodded. "It's going to break his heart," she whispered, choking back a sob.

Mary nodded, bringing her sister in for a hug. "Maybe so. But he'll get over it. He wants us all to be happy, believe it or not. It's just taken him nearly thirty years to realize that he can't give us everything, and that's okay," Mary said, her voice increasing in volume to emphasize her point.

"I hope so. He just always looked at me like I chose the life I have, but I didn't chose it anymore than I chose who I fell in love with. It just happened! And then it got better the longer we were here and now-"

"And now you're leaving again." Mary said, repeating her sister's news back to her. "It's okay, darling. Let's just get through the day." They were walking back to the middle of the room where Maddie was busy brushing the hair of her new doll. She was standing before Matthew, showing him how to do it, then she handed him the brush and the doll and insisted he try.

"My turn?" Matthew asked. He was always such a willing participant.

Part of Mary wanted a little girl of her own, if only so that Matthew could experience the lovely father-daughter moments she often caught Tom and Madeleine in. Max was more than enough, and Matthew was a wonderful uncle. The want of a child was never enough to bring it into this world, and for Mary and Matthew that was all that it was. They wanted a healthy child and they wanted a boy to be able to carry on the name and the estate. They were blessed with both on the first try, and thought it best if they not tempt fate anymore than the two of them already had.

Tom had returned, sipping at a cup of coffee. Sybil smiled as she smelled the liquid, black and steaming. He still drank tea, but he loved his coffee, and Mrs. Patmore insisted she let him make it for her whenever he wanted. Tom originally objected but now, it was a luxury, one that reminded him of home, their home, and suddenly that place was so close to where they were.

"Maddie, why don't-" But Matthew stopped Tom's words, insisting that she was fine.

Near the Christmas tree, Robert and Cora were exchanging gifts. Sybil smiled at the affection shown between the two of them, and guessed that the thing her mother was about to open was jewelry. When she saw the smile creep across her mother's features and her father place a loving kiss to her cheek, Sybil surmised that she had guessed right.

When a frustrated Madeleine gave up on Matthew, she went to the couch and pulled herself up onto the plush cushions. Robert and Cora were done exchanging gifts now, and took this opportunity to entertain the young child so that Tom and Sybil could do the same. Already in the corner of the room, with Mary on the ottoman and Matthew still in the armchair, they were doing the same thing.

"Your father has softened quite a bit. I don't think I thought we ever would have gotten back here."

Sybil smiled. "To Downton or here, in this moment?"

"This," he said, referring to the tree and the tea trays and all the gifts. "Maddie's going to be in for quite a shock soon."

"Do you think she'll like it? Are we cruel to take her away from all of this?"

Tom looked around, to the crown molding above, the room practically overflowing with love. To Tom, it was no different than the wooden beams of the cottage he had told Sybil about after returning from Ireland just this time last year. Things like that mattered, and they already did their best to teach their young children these things. They hoped she would hold onto them even after their departure.

Not wanting to discuss such things, he pulled Sybil into him and kissed her forehead. "I watched you in this very room. After you told me you were going to show your family your new dress, I had to see their reactions but in the end, I couldn't take my eyes off of you."

"I used to avoid your glance then," Sybil admitted, rubbing her lips together to moisturize them. "It was too much."

"We were too much."

"Wisely and slow. They stumble that run fast," she whispered, repeating words from her favorite Shakespeare play. And then, as if an idea had appeared to her, she kissed him, chastely because they were still in the drawing room, but with a passion only the two of them could see. "We're making the right decision."

Tom nodded, knowing his wife's words were more of a comfort to her than they were for him. "I think so."

"We are," she agreed. "Oh! I got you something…"

Tom watched her disappear, walking to the christmas tree and then returning with a rather large box wrapped in simple red paper. A giant gold bow sat on top of it, and Tom began to wonder what she had got him. They had agreed to exchange gifts this year and he knew Sybil was going to take this opportunity to pay him back for the book he gave her three years ago. "What is this?"

Sybil sat back down. With her hands on her knees she leant into Tom, immediately teasing him for asking such a question. "I don't know Tom. Why don't you open it?"

He did, taking his time to reveal the box beneath the paper as he realized this was perhaps the largest gift he had ever received. Next came the top of the box, and then layers of tissue paper beneath. When all of that was peeled back, he saw it, a briefcase made of the most stunning dark leather he had ever seen. "Syb..."

"Just look at it," she urged, not wanting to hear about how much she had spent or the briefcase he already had. She watched him bring it to work in Dublin, and then watched him carry it around to the farms in Downton. It was nice, but the leather was beginning to tear, and the years of paperwork hidden away in its folders had made the item look tired and worn down. "I wanted you to have something nice," she explained. "You can bring it to work with you when we get back. You'll look very smart with it," she added, already picturing him with a higher position at a paper in Dublin.

When Tom went back to his old employer in Dublin, he found that his former boss had passed away, but his son had taken over the newspaper after his death. Always admiring Tom's hard work and vocal personality, his son offered Tom a job, one he had to reject after explaining he was not yet back in Dublin for good. He was assured that the offer stood and that whenever Tom did officially return he could assume his post as political journalist.

"Well I got you something," Tom said, almost as if to one up her. She sighed, but she was curious, wondering what in the world he could ever get her to make all the things she already had just that much better. Her mind drew a blank, thinking that this, just being here with him and their children was enough. She also knew it would all be enough when they returned to Dublin, to start all over again.

Just as Sybil had previously done, Tom walked to the tree and returned carrying a package. It was a little bit smaller than the one she had handed him, but not by much. "It's not as exciting now that you've given me my gift," Tom began to explain.

Sybil ignored him as she made quick work of removing the paper hiding her gift. She beamed, seeing a bag also made of leather hidden beneath. It was like Tom's briefcase, but resembling a small version of Dr. Clarkson's medicine bag. Inside of it, a stethoscope, a scalpel, and a manual Sybil swore she had seen before.

"We've saved enough so that you don't have to work when we get back, but if you wanted to, I figured you should have your own bag."

"Oh, Tom…" Sybil wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him in for a hug. She wanted to cry, but the smile painted across her cheeks kept her from doing so. "I love you," she stated, knowing that those words meant more when they weren't needed. "So much," she added, her voice trailing off.

He said nothing, his mouth unable to speak as his eyes watched her admire the bag. She kept opening and closing it, spending time to rifle through its contents before finally setting it down on the floor. "I'm so happy, Tom."

"We've done good, Syb."

"Yeah, we have," she whispered, unable to take her eyes off of him.

~!~

During dinner, Tom and Sybil had mentioned to Robert and Cora that they'd like to discuss something with them when they had a free moment. Mary quickly piped up, offering to watch Madeleine and Ryan up in the nursery while they talked. Both Sybil and Tom thanked her, leaving Robert and Cora to wonder what it was that their daughters were up to. By now they both understood that things that went unnoticed by them were rarely actual secrets between their girls, even after marriage and babies had taken the place of childlike behavior.

Sybil and Tom kissed Rian and Madeleine and then sent them upstairs. It was Madeleine's night for a bath, and Mary and Matthew assured the couple they would have no problem bathing the little girl. Madeleine beamed, finding new opportunities like these to be adventures, ones she was sure she could conquer. The child was also especially fond of her godparents and found herself clinging to them when her own parents were at work or in town having a night to themselves.

Of course, Sybil and Tom would return the favor, but with Mary not working and Max excelling at napping, those nights were few and far between.

"Should we be scared?" Robert asked as they all sat down. He was doing his best to lighten the mood, even his own tension, as he watched Sybil snuggle into Tom, holding his hand in her lap.

Sybil shook her head. She used the pride she felt thinking about the information she was about to share with her parents to distract them from the ever present cloud hanging above all of them.

Cora joined her daughter. "Are you expecting again?"

Tom looked to Sybil almost to ask her the same question. She laughed, "No, not yet," she said, assuring both her mother and Tom that the option wasn't completely out of the question.

"We're going back to Dublin."

Tom looked to Sybil. He found her words startling, and he wondered when she had even given them time to fall from her lips. He was sure that she would have forced him to admit all of this, but she was confident now, and her statement reminded him that she wanted this just as much as he did.

"We know," Cora responded, smiling at both her daughter and her son-in-law.

"How?"

"Your mother and I could just feel it. You two have been awfully quiet since Tom returned home last year. But we saw this coming. We knew this was never a permanent thing."

"You're not mad?" Sybil asked, hoping her words didn't encourage things they had yet to acknowledge.

Cora shook her head in negation. "As you both know and will continue to learn, you know what's best for your children. This is something you two have to do, and we get that. We worry about you," she said, her voice rising in energy, "but we know that this is what you want and it's no use stunting that. This is a decision you've made and we respect that."

"It's no use stopping you anymore, Sybil," Robert stated plainly. He and his daughter shared a look, one that left Cora and Tom breathless. It was everything they had always wanted to say to one another: a final truce when it mattered most. They both knew this was their last chance so they took it gratefully, hoping all could be explained and felt before she was on a boat back to Dublin, only to visit on Holidays.

"When are you leaving?"

"We're looking at March," Tom said. He smiled at Sybil, making them both think of the conversation they had last night before bed when they actually began to make plans. All of the thoughts they each had about when to return, where to work, and where they'd live were found to need little compromise to settle on. The things that Sybil wanted, Tom wanted for her and the things he had planned, she trusted him without needing explanations.

"Have you looked at a place to live? What about work?" Robert asked, always thinking more practically than he gave his daughter credit for.

Sybil nodded. "It's all set. I've written to a hospital in a nearby town and they want to hire me back," she said, referring to the job she had received in Malahide before running back to Downton seeking security. "And Tom will get his job back at the paper."

"Things have changed," Tom reminded them. "It's already turning around. The politics are different and everyone had a much better outlook on the possibilities of the Republic to advance."

Catching both his daughter and her husband off guard, Robert agreed. "Of course."

"You must be careful," Cora finished for her husband. "And you must promise to write and send us updates on the children."

"Of course," Tom said, repeating Robert's words back to them.

"We've bought a cottage outside of Dublin."

"Oh?"

Sybil smiled. "It's beautiful. There's a garden out back for the children to play in. And our church is only a short walk into town."

"It has a small library too," Tom added. Sybil looked to him and beamed in agreement. Her eyes were wide now. She found herself missing the home she had yet to live in and she hoped Tom and Madeleine and Rian were somehow all feeling the same thing.

"Sybil?"

The youngest Crawley daughter turned to the door where Mary stood, sticking her head in. This gave her permission to continue. "Maddie is asking for her blanket and Matthew and I can't find it anywhere…"

"Oh!" Sybil yelped, standing up to walk to the door. "I just washed it. I'll get it. Thank you." She excused herself from the current conversation and disappeared out of the room with Mary.

Robert and Cora went to stand, but Tom stopped them, asking for a moment or two of their time. They shared a look, smiling as they both sat back down. "Of course," Cora said, wondering what it was Tom was about to say.

"I just…I just want you to know how much I appreciate everything you've done for Sybil and I. And for our family. I know this hasn't been easy. I know this isn't what you wanted for her but I really hope you're starting to get it. And if not, then that's fine. But I just can't thank you enough for letting us stay here the past few years and for doing everything you could to keep her and the kids safe."

"We'd do it all again if we had to," Robert stated. "She's our daughter and you're apart of this family now too. You're right, it's not what we had planned but you have proved yourself to be a good husband and a good provider and we can't argue that anymore."

"It's too exhausting," Cora commented, causing them all to laugh it off.

Tom looked back up. "But I mean it. She appreciates it. And she loves you both so much." A beat and then, as if he was thinking better of his words, he began again. "She always has. I know you think I probably took her away but I don't want that to be what this is about. I'd stay here if that's what she wanted…"

"You'd stay here for Sybil?"

Tom nodded. It wasn't up for discussion: of course he would. He'd go anywhere she asked him to.

"That's admirable, Tom. But we know now that things like this are just as much her decision as they are yours."

"And that's not easy to admit, either," Robert said.

Tom chuckled. "Thank you." He looked back up. "I can't say it enough."

The conversation died by the time Sybil had returned from upstairs. Quizzically, she looked at Tom, then to her parents, searching for an explanation. It never came, but she suddenly felt comfortable here, even in this place that was no longer home.

* * *

2 chapters left!

x. Elle


	33. Your Hand In Mine (Goodbye)

**A/N:** I suppose I should say that this chapter was written with YOU in mind. Meaning, it's really just a 'Thank You!' to my readers for being so loyal. Especially to you ladies that always review! You know I appreciate it.

**Song:** _Your Hand in Mine (Goodbye)_ - Explosions in the Sky

* * *

After they had revealed their plans to the family, almost immediately Tom and Sybil began to pack. Even though they had a few months, they were both excited, and it showed as they placed clothing for the warmer months in trunks to be shipped to Dublin before their departure.

Sybil wrote a letter to Katherine, discussing the plans they had made. In return, Katherine wrote her sister-in-law, thanking her for signing their old flat over to her after Katherine married Kevin. Sybil apologized for missing the wedding but was overjoyed to find the youngest Branson girl was already expecting. Katherine assured her that by the time her and Tom arrived back to Dublin, she'd be showing, and Sybil made the younger girl promise to let her buy the child its first gift.

They were leaving tomorrow and almost everything they owned was already back in Dublin or in one of the various boxes and trunks near the door. There wasn't much but it seemed like everything they ever owned, everything their time and money had gone into providing for a happy life, was packed away, to be opened again soon, when they were back at home and ready to finally settle down.

He had been her best friend for nearly ten years now, and her lover for only half that time. Still, it seemed like all the years they had spent waiting for one another had led to this moment. It was love, and a little bit of patience, that allowed good things like this to happen to them, exactly when they were supposed to.

Dinner that night had been surreal, marked most pointedly by Tom happily getting into his usual tuxedo. Sybil commented, asking him if he was suddenly regretting leaving. He chuckled and quickly told her "no" but that instead he was happy this would no longer have to be a nightly routine, and that now it would just be something he did when they returned for a holiday or weekend visit.

Returning upstairs after changing Maddie and Rian for bed, Tom and Sybil locked their door and immediately began to undress. Then, Sybil stopped them, remembering the last of her plans to be completed before they left tomorrow. "Wait!"

Tom looked at her, standing now in nothing but his briefs. He was exhausted. He had been biting his tongue and feigning joviality lately, all for Sybil and their prospects of leaving. It was almost as if he said the wrong thing now, the respect he had slowly begun to receive over the past year or so would diminish and they'd change their minds and never let Sybil leave.

He knew now, just as well as Robert and Cora did, that it wasn't up to them. As they said a few months ago: these were decisions that Sybil made, and in his opinion, she made them quite well.

"What?"

Sybil quickly walked to her armoire, the one they had been sharing for the past few years. Inside, only a few things hung, two of which she had placed there earlier that morning. She retrieved both hangers, and his eyes dropped as he saw what each one held. On one, her old nursing uniform, complete with apron and headscarf. On the other, his old livery, and he wondered where she had gotten it from as he tried to remember where he had left it before leaving for Dublin with her.

Wherever it was, she had found it, and it was clear she had made plans for the both of them using these very outfits. For a moment, as he did his best to stop thinking of her in her old uniform, he wondered if Sybil had to consult anyone else to pull this off. He hoped not; even after years of being together, he still wanted to keep them a secret from the rest of world.

It made him think how their lovemaking had changed. Not for the worse, as he and she had worried, but altered it in a way that met them in years. They knew each other now, and yet they spent almost every night discovering new things and visiting old riddles. Even with children, they had made time to make love, or like the teenagers they missed being, even make out, connecting at the lips as hungry hands met familiar skin atop the day's clothing. Sometimes this meant early morning trysts, or stolen moments in the bathroom while the rest of the house went about their day. But it wasn't a different they regretted or one that even made them miss how things used to be. Even when Sybil once suggested they take her parents up on the offer of a nanny, his initial frustration was soon taken over as she kissed his neck and hinted at what it was she really wanted.

Soon they would have it, privacy and their own home again, and time to continue figuring themselves out.

"Do you want to play around?"

Tom nodded, swallowing quickly as he leaned in to kiss her lips.

Sybil gave in, but quickly pulled away, knowing that teasing him like this would only add to what she had planned. "Put this on," she stated, handing him his old green livery.

Happily, he took it, suddenly feeling the weight of such a uniform as it left her grasp and landed in his hands. Sybil said nothing but instead disappeared into the bathroom to change. When she emerged, it was her turn to gasp, seeing him sitting on the edge of the bed, giving her an even better look of his body when he stood up to greet her.

"Hi Branson," she managed, tucking a stray hair behind her ear. She felt a blush tickle her cheeks as she looked to the ground. The way he was staring at her was almost too much to take. Suddenly she was a little girl again, eighteen or nineteen maybe, but still so young. Sybil wondered how she ever did it, allowed him to stare at her like this without letting all the things she felt for him to dribble off her lips onto his.

"Milady," he croaked out, playing along. He was nervous now, as he forget that this was his wife and remembered all the thoughts he used to have about her in this outfit. He had told her some but there was never enough time in the days they spent together to reveal every little adored detail of the outfit she used to wear daily.

Sybil was standing in front of Tom now. It was then that she realized how many layers they had on, and she regretted this, thinking how symbolic it was that it was these outfits that once kept them at a distance. Her fingers toyed with the golden buttons of his jacket. She thanked him for just keeping his undershirt underneath the thick green material. Sybil couldn't imagine undressing him only to find another shirt and tie beneath. "Is this okay?"

He nodded, reaching out to wrap his hand around her neck, with his thumb caressing her earlobe. He leaned in to kiss her, but she smiled and pulled away again. Her smile only brightened when she saw the frustration on his face. "Mr. Branson, that is highly inappropriate…"

"Excuse me, milady," he teased, "but I don't know if I can wait any longer."

"Oh yeah? Well I do believe you'll have to. You did tell me you'd once wait forever."

"Haven't I earned that?"

"Have you?"

Tom stepped into her, placing a hand on her hip. "I believe I have." Wantonly, he leaned in and began to kiss her neck. He was sure he was marking her, but her inability to push him away and continue to play along, told him she didn't care.

Finally, Sybil pushed him away and went to sit on the bed. "Branson, you work here. We can't-"

He joined her on the bed. His hand went to her knee, massaging her skin through her thin cotton dress. Meanwhile, his other hand snuck around to the back of her, untying her apron, causing the straps to fall loose from over her shoulders. "Nobody will know."

"Promise?"

Tom nodded. "Did you lock the door?"

Sybil wasn't sure if this was Branson or Tom talking to her, but she nodded. Hadn't he locked the door?

Tom was kissing Sybil's neck again, pushing her body back toward the mattress below. She gave in, her fingers making quick work of the buttons on his jacket. As the last one came undone, she pushed the lapels apart and wished that Tom had been shirtless underneath. She helped him shrug out of the material as he continued his assault on the sensitive skin behind her ear. "Tell me how long you've wanted me…" he murmured from out behind hungry kisses.

"Too long." She was breathless now too. Even after four, almost five years of marriage, his touch still sent electric shocks up her spine. She was always wanting him, always needing him, and always showing him both things as her fingers searched the skin underneath his undershirt. Dear god, he was so beautiful like this, and Sybil, even in her own modest, had no problem telling him so. "Sexy," she whispered.

Tom pulled away and looked down at her. Her skin was flushed, and the hair once tucked neatly under her headscarf was beginning to come undone. Not yet ready to answer her, he used the confidence she had just given to him, to reach behind her head and untie the cloth headband. A few pins were removed, and then all of them came out, letting the starched white material fall off her head and onto the side of the bed. Sybil giggled, and Tom took this opportunity to throw the cap away.

"I thought you liked my headscarf, Mr. Branson."

Tom nipped at her lips. "I do, milady. Too much, perhaps. But I'm feeling a little underdressed here…"

Tom signaled to his state, just his old livery trousers and his nightshirt. He was hovering above her now, with one arm on either side of her head. She looked up at him with complete trust in her eyes, and he wondered who he was looking back at; the girl he used to love or the woman he was so in love with now.

"Branson, are you insinuating that I am overdressed?" Sybil asked, faking a sort of innocence she wasn't even sure she had when he had first arrived at Downton. She may have been sweet and she may have been young, but she was well read, and she did her best not to be embarrassed by things she was only ignorant to. "Could you-" Her voice broke. "Could you help me with this problem?"

Tom just laughed. Sybil was sure this was her husband now, and she suddenly felt self-conscious that he was so much better at this than she was. After all, this was her idea in the first place.

"Are you sure, milady? Your parents-"

"Tom-"

"Your parents would be so upset to hear you call me that," he said, knowing it wasn't what she was expecting but that it set her off just the same.

To keep her from responding, he kissed her, slowly at first, then with passion. He was practically inhaling her, and she allowed it, knowing that even if she had invited him up to her room during the war, it was unlikely she would have been able to turn him down then.

"Sit up for me, love?"

"Love?" Sybil asked. "Branson, you've never called me that."

"What would you prefer? I do love you…" he muttered, placing a kiss the expanse of skin below her chin before tasting her lips again.

"I think I love you too," Sybil repeated back to him with a smirk across her lips to keep anything else from coming out. She knew what effect this would have on him, and all was confirmed as he cocked an eyebrow and studied her intensely.

"You think?"

"A lady is never sure," she said, giggling before pulling at the back of his neck to bring him closer again. Tom did his best to rid her of her apron. "I have to keep my options open," she teased with another kiss to his lips. "Does that make you want me less, Branson?"

Tom just shook his head. "I know you're lying, so no, I wouldn't say that" he said, rather cockily. His lips moved against hers, but they were not kissing. He just whispered things she wished she didn't have to hear. She knew that they were playing a game, but somehow it was all too real, reminder her of the way they used to be and the games they used to play.

He erased her doubt and quieted her mind, seizing her lips against his as his hands began to undo the buttons on her dress. He was having difficulty, and this made Sybil laugh into his mouth. They pulled away, and she helped him. He let her too, but only because it was sexy to watch her stare up at him with heavy eyes while her fingers made quick work of the dress she was hiding beneath.

"So many fucking buttons," Tom muttered into her neck.

Slyly, Sybil smiled. "Watch your mouth, Branson, my parents are right down the hall…"

"They've never heard us before," he said, causing her eyes to widen at the new levels he had brought their roleplaying to. If she had a backstory, apparently so did he, and it excited them both to finally be able to bring all of their years of dreaming together.

Sybil nodded, her raised eyes and pursed lips practically nodding a simple "touche" before looking to where his gaze fell.

Her dress was rather difficult, and she clearly didn't think this entire thing through. She remembered the first time she wore it and she had to ask one of the girls in York to help her dress. Sybil felt less incompetent when she saw that many of the other women needed help as well, but it was still something she wanted to be able to do on her own.

"Do you want me to-?"

"I got it," she whispered, ushering her arms out of their sleeves. From the waist up, she was in nothing but a lace brassiere, her pink nipples practically pushing through the aqua material. Tom had watched her dress this morning, but there was something about seeing her like this while he was in his old livery that made him miss her visits out to the garage when all of this was concealed. They were both so young and naive then, but he wished he could tell the boy he used to be that waiting would all be worth it. It wasn't as if Tom ever doubted it, or her, but part of him also never thought it could be this good, this blissful and free.

"Take off your shirt, Branson," Sybil ordered, doing her best to sound stern.

He obliged, quickly removing his nightshirt only to throw it to the side. It hit the edge of the bed and then fell down, landing rather gracefully on top of his old chauffeur's jacket. "I thought we agreed it was finally my turn to give the orders, milady…"

Sybil quirked an eyebrow. "And what order would you like to give me, Branson?"

"Scoot back. I want to get you out of this dress."

Sybil smiled and did as he told. It was more of a question, but a part of her liked him talking to her like this, even if it was silly.

Tom didn't think it was silly though; he was just as turned on as she was. He was doing his best to be patient though, shown as he slowly pulled the pooled dress sitting around Sybil's waist, down the length of her legs. His eyes widened as he saw his wife, sitting before him in nothing but a brassiere. "Milady," he somehow managed to choke out, "where are your knickers?"

Sybil bit her lip. "Branson, I never wear knickers under my nursing uniform. Didn't you know?"

He attacked her lips again, silencing the laugh she was expressing at the sight of his face. Tom was truly impressed, and he showed her, his hands already moving down to her center to pleasure her. In the middle of a kiss, he let one finger, then two slide into her, while his thumb tickled her clit. She dropped her mouth open to let out a loud cry.

"Dear god!" Her fingernails dug into the planes of his chest and Tom could only laugh as he felt the pressure there. He was sure she was leaving little scratches as she so often did, but he found her mannerisms to be too new for him to care. He loved bringing her here, even if it meant pain on his part.

"What do you want, Sybil?"

"You," she said, breathlessly. "I want you."

"But-"

"Everyday. Always. I want you," she repeated, giving such words no further thought.

"Marry me?" Tom croaked out as an obvious joke.

Sybil laughed and nodded, kissing his lips again. "Tom-?"

He softened at hearing her use his real name. He reached up to cup her cheek. "You okay?" He removed his hand from down between her legs and rested it calmly on her abdomen. "What's wrong?"

"I'm over this. I just want to make love to my husband now."

He chuckled, then placed a kiss to her fluttering eyelids. "Good, love. Me too."

It was slow, but their lips didn't detach, as she rid him of his pants, and he rid her of her bra. Next came his briefs, and it took everything in Sybil not to lean down and tease Tom the way he had teased her before. With eyes still closed, she reached down, and guided him toward her. He gasped against her lips, and she repeated this action, sighing, as the tip of his cock pushed into her.

They could do this in the dark, and they had, many times. It did not matter where or when they made love, it was always the same, and yet so different, bringing them to new climaxes, leaving them feeling different things each time they came down from equally powerful orgasms. He loved watching her sigh as he entered her, and she loved feeling him caress up and down the length of her naked body, leaving his hand to rest on the curve of her hip. Sometimes that changed, as they each, over the years, managed to find new traits they loved. But they'd return here, and be just as content as if they were discovering each other all over again.

They took their time feeling one another. Tom was slow with the pressure he applied down upon her, and she was slow in rising her hips to meet him. They wanted it to last all night if that was possible, but they were happy when it came to an end, only to welcome their position back at the starting line.

Their lips were less hungry and their hands, more deliberate, as they went for a second, then a third, and then a seventh time that night. Exhaustion kissed their eyes and lulled them into a short slumber, and when the sunlight began to stream in through the window they changed into their sleep clothes and got back into bed to hold one another before their wake up call came in and interrupted the world they were so lost in.

When a housemaid came in to make their bed, they asked if they could do it. Shyly, she smiled, and allowed their odd request. Together, Tom and Sybil made the bed they were sure they wouldn't be seeing for quite some time, and with it, let the memories of the last few years rest there, only to be washed away, room made for new, when the sheets were stripped and the comforter hung after their departure back to Dublin.

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One more chapter after this and then this story is complete. This is so crazy to me, and I wish I could hold onto this story forever but alas, I am not Fellowes, and I know when to call it quits, especially when that means doing so out of respect for my characters.

I'm going to post the next (and final) chapter either tomorrow or Tuesday because I want the second chapter of _Beautiful Collisions_ to go up on Wednesday.

Also, someone asked and I figured I'd extend the offer, if anyone was interested: if there was a moment you think I skipped or just wanted me to consider in general, I will write even more "missing moments" one-shots after this is posted and done. Just let me know, because I know I did jump around a bit to get everything I wanted in.

As usual, thank you for reading!

x. Elle


	34. On The Other Side

**A/N: **Well, here it is. The final chapter of my little engine that could. And somehow, did.

Thank you all for reading and for those of you who reviewed, so much love!

**Song: **_On The Other Side_ - Augustana

* * *

It wasn't easy, but it was worth it. Tom and Sybil were sure that everything they did could be summed up in a similar notion, even now that they were officially allowed to call Dublin home. The first year was rocky, to say the least. It was marked with job changes for Sybil and long work hours for Tom. There were nights when they barely saw each other, when his bedtime coincided with the hour right before she was to get up with the children and ready them for the day. They made it though, and then one year became three as hours became more steady and Sybil found a permanent job in a new children's hospital right near their house.

Robert and Cora never came to visit, but Mary and Matthew and the kids did. Edith spent a weekend in Dublin once, saying she needed to get out of London, but later revealing to Tom that she missed her sister and their children and even him. All of them were always greeted with such a warm hospitality, and then fed by Sybil, and were delighted to find that her meals were not only edible but rather delicious. Then they'd watch her and Tom go through their nightly routine of bathing the children and putting them to bed before they were allowed to treat themselves to a pot of coffee or tea. It was usually both, with Tom not having a preference, but Sybil drank coffee now, usually black, but always piping hot.

They were all so amused by this behavior, but even Mary found comfort in her little sister's happiness. It was so natural and raw and all the more evident when Tom and her were not forced to hide behind or within a castle that once fostered it. Their views on them and the world would never change, but they had softened considerably, even if Sybil's parents were not here to actually see it. None of this came as a shock to either Tom or Sybil. They knew better than to expect things from her family, especially when such things were so much less important now with a family of their own.

Tom and Sybil would return to Downton for every other Christmas and for a week in the summer, but they did their best not to stay long. Dublin was home now, just as much as it had always been.

Sybil and Tom wanted their children to grow up understanding the world without blinders on. They protected and adored their children but not once did they ever want them ignorant to the way life and love and happiness all worked. It was easier for Tom and Sybil to know and be all of those things in Ireland. And while they wished it wasn't true, they knew that this was a decision they made for themselves and their family, and as they watched Madeleine and Rian grow up, they knew it was the right decision.

Settling back into the city was much easier than they had originally guessed it would be. After three years of being back, it amazed them that such a thing was once seen as a feat. Sybil quickly fell in love with the cottage Tom had picked out, and within a week, Tom was back to work. Sybil worked too, stopping only recently when her morning's were plagued with nausea and achey muscles. She was pregnant again, this time with twins. They both remembered laughing when the doctor told them this; it was finally settled whether they'd have three children or four, leaving both parents happy that the decision had been made for them.

It was Easter now, and a cause for celebration on many fronts. Tom had been promoted to main page editor, and Katherine had just announced she was expecting her second child. After mass that morning, they went downtown to watch the parade, and then returned to Tom and Sybil's cottage on the edge of the city for an afternoon picnic.

Helen remembered when Sybil had asked her if it were okay if she took on the tradition this year to give her some time off, and the older woman, still with so much pride for the relationship between Sybil and her son, willingly gave in. She remembered when this girl had appeared on her doorstep, and she remembered the last time she saw her off. Sybil carried a suitcase both times, but the contents within it were as different as the girl she would soon be both before and after her departure.

That seemed like light years ago, both occurrences changing who Sybil was while at the same time reminding her of the girl she had always been. Yes, she was English, but now she had other defining characteristics, her two favorite being that of a wife and mother, and it was these tasks that erased nationality and made returning to Dublin that much easier.

As their family got ready to play a game of gaelic football, Tom and Sybil sat on a flannel blanket off to the side, promising to keep score. They blamed their lack of participation on Sybil's swollen stomach, but everyone, including them, understood that it was sometimes easier to choose to stand by and watch after years of running in circles.

With a pretty white hat atop her head, matching the pale green maternity dress she wore, Sybil smiled and closed her eyes, savoring each time Tom kissed her. As the sun continued to beat down and brighten the field where everyone threw the ball around, she was sure there wasn't an inch of her face that had yet to be touched his lips today. She'd give in, pressing a kiss to his lips when the family ran to the other end of the pitch and Sybil could pull down her hat to create a wall between her and Tom and the rest of the family.

"You look beautiful, m'love," he muttered before pressing a kiss to her neck. It was just one, but it made Sybil laugh, and she was suddenly glad that the brim of her hat was so wide, for it covered the obvious blush staining her skin.

"Tom!" She pushed him away, or at least tried to. Elizabeth looked over from where she was picking up her own children and setting their feet back on the ground. She stopped smile, only to see her brother and his wife. She shot Sybil a glare and Sybil's face grew serious. "Your family can see you!"

She turned to Tom and pushed him further away, still never one to feel completely comfortable to be herself in front of Tom's family. To them she would always be the naive English girl whose politics and good looks had kept Tom away for so many years. It was these same things that brought him back, then and now, but they'd never see it that way.

The Branson's would admit they were happy to have them living in Dublin again, and they'd joke with Tom that they hoped he could keep himself in line long enough to make it permanent, but they always knew that with Tom and Sybil, it was not up to anyone else how they lived. They had gotten rid of that expectation long ago when they left Downton to elope.

Tom smirked before he kissed further down Sybil's neck. "Can they?" Both his words and his lips were teasing as he placed another kiss to the freckles on her shoulder.

All of this subsided as Sybil began to clap. It was her idea for the game to be boys versus girls this year, and she was ecstatic as she watched Madeleine's cousins pick the young child up after she scored a goal.

"Lovely job, Mads!" Sybil called out, receiving a smile from her proud daughter. It was a far distance from the girl who arrived here with them all those years ago.

Madeleine was a tomboy now, forfeiting her little mary janes for work boots. The sight even made Tom shudder when he originally saw it, but now, he wouldn't have it any other way, and he was proud of his daughter for being able to wear a pretty lace dress and a pair of leather boots that laced up past her ankle.

The Sunday after they first returned back, Maddie had made a scene at mass, proclaiming quite loudly to the entire congregation standing outside of the church that she was a princess and she wished to go back to her castle. Tom and Sybil swore they'd never lay a finger on their children so they bit their tongues and hung their heads low. They gave a sleeping Rian to his grandmother and took their daughter on a walk through the park to explain to her why she was out of line. She cried, and then they cried with her, but by the time they returned home for brunch, all was resolved.

It took Madeleine awhile, but it was evident to them how much this place was growing on her, and they cherished that fact so dearly. The next time they were in church after the incident she proudly walked up to the priest and apologized for what she had said the week prior. He forgave her, and she smiled before skipping back to where her family was sitting in a pew.

Now, at almost seven, Maddie called Dublin home, and her accent resembled her father's much more than her mother's. Apart from her aristocratic roots, she was no different from the other Irish girls in their village.

For Rian who had just turned three, the opposite problem existed. He was awfully close to his mother, and he hated the long trips back to Downton for holiday. Between him and his sister, it was a balancing act, one that would only be complicated by the two little lives Tom and Sybil would soon bring into the world. It would work though, and they'd never stop telling their children the importance of each of the places they come from.

Dublin was home, Sybil would assure Tom, but he knew her heart would sometimes find itself wandering, back to Downton and the place that raised her. Like they'd tell their children, Tom would tell Sybil that it was okay for her to miss it. And then, when she was just beginning to drift off, he'd whisper to her that sometimes he missed it too.

The years hadn't always been so kind, but they were worth it, with Tom just past thirty, and Sybil not too far behind. In a few month's, each child would have another birthday, and then a month later, it would be Tom and Sybil's seventh wedding anniversary. They were set to take a trip to London soon, but with the babies on the way, or at that point, possibly already here, Sybil had her apprehensions. Tom shared in them with her, but then tickled her ear with the same story she once told him of the cafe and the girl and the boy and all the freedom she once witnessed as a teenager. Hidden beneath their duvet like children telling ghost stories, Sybil revealed to him how she had once run away from the chauffeur in London. He laughed and asked her where she was planning to go.

"Away," she replied. "I was scared."

"Scared of what?"

"Never making it out."

"You made it out, I'd say."

"I did." And then: "Thank you."

It was a joke now, something that Tom used to tease Sybil with when she was being stubborn. It always made her think though. It was a constant thought she had about where she used to be and how far she had come since then. The idea seemed silly now, and she blushed to think how ridiculous she looked running away from a private car into the crowded streets of London. The more Sybil thought of it the more she was fond of the movement, of her feet picking her up and bringing her to the places she needed to be, only to set her down in the one place she'd always love, wherever that was, with Tom.

She had run to York during the war, to the garage all those nights to see a friend and then finally to Dublin when that friend had become so much more. Her feet brought her away from places both foreign and new but sometimes they'd bring her back. Sitting on the grass with her belly swollen and her children playing at her feet, Sybil felt still and sweet like the late Spring day they were all so clearly lost in. She had stopped running a long time ago.

* * *

_Fin!_


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